Blake and Jones: The Case of the Cruel Carvings
by Hayles45
Summary: First part of my Blake and Jones series: After a serial killer strikes for the twelfth time, it's up to detectives Blake and Jones to solve this case once and for all. But will they also become victims of the Cruel Carvings? Rated T to be safe! R&R!
1. Lauren Graves

_I so want to do this. I never back down from a case. I mean, me, Lauren Graves, one of the best detectives this side of the Atlantic, back down from a case? Not gonna happen. And if I fail, then Daphne Blake and Fred Jones will get the case._

_Let's just say that they are blind; totally and utterly blind. If you so much as look at them together you can hear "Here Comes the Bride" played off-key. She adores him and he's totally the same, so why on earth don't they just admit it?_

_And if I give up now, the headlines will read 'Blake and Jones Have done it Again!' simply because it's true. The duo never fails to solve a case, at least not to my recollection. Just for once, I'd like it to be my name on the front page of the newspaper, and not theirs. _

_I've worked hard to be where I am today, and if I had a dollar for every time I've started on a case and they've taken it away from me, I'd be very rich indeed. _

_But not this one. This has to be the most serious case I've ever dealt with, and if I solve it, it'll be me who will be talking to news reporters whilst Blake and Jones stand and simply watch. _

_So it's eleven o'clock and I'm in my office working late; again. My boyfriend calls me a workaholic and he's right. My pen taps against my leg, the blazer of my suit rough where my shirt doesn't quite reach my trousers. My eyes rove over the case notes, a single strand of black hair in the way; I brush it back impatiently, wondering why I don't just cut it short. Every effort has been put into this case, every detective in Ohio on red alert, and still nothing leaps out at me._

_Nobody wanted me to take this case. Eleven detectives have been killed trying to find this guy, whoever they are. Eleven good people brutally and cruelly murdered, in ways I don't even want to describe. The photos are nothing short of Picasso - guess the body part. Whenever I look at them I shudder. I could be one of them. It's plausible._

_I'm not going to get anything done sulking here. Time to go home, patch things up with my boyfriend after our row. He's scared, scared I'll die on this case. Secretly I am too, but if I don't stand up to the mark who will? Someone has to piece it all together, and I wanted to be that person. Still do._

_I grab my car keys. The picture of all of us on graduation shines back at me in the glare from the cheap strip lighting. Eleven of the people in that picture are now dead. A shudder runs down my spine, and I hurriedly tuck the key-ring into my palm, heading for the door, my nails clacking on the brushed metal as I push my way out and press for my car to unlock, hand trembling slightly as I hold it out. Nerves. For what? Making it up with my boyfriend, or something else?_

_The car won't unlock. I swear under my breath, kicking the bumper, cursing once again as it dents my toes through my shoes. I'm sure someone will give me a lift tomorrow; public transport isn't the wisest option with some of the people I've been in contact with the last couple of days. Being a detective means you really do move in gutter circles. My mobile goes straight to answer phone when I ring my boyfriend. Looks like I'm walking: no way to safely get a cab. At least this way I can run if something happens._

_I set off, chin up, heels clacking on the stern concrete. I stuff my keys into my handbag, managing to drop it onto the grime of the street; I hoist it up quickly, brushing it down, closing the zip, eyes darting round. Calm down, Lauren. Who's going to be out at this time of night? And you'll know if someone comes near._

_Footsteps behind me. I turn, grabbing the strap of my bag, my eyes wide as they swerve round wildly, reaching out as though I'll find someone within a foot of me._

_"Hello?"_

_Nothing. It only worsens my nerves. I turn again, picking up my pace, the thud of my heels turning into my pulse in my ears, and then an executioner's drum._

_I need some positive thinking, but it's not working: all I can think is that I am alone, working a case notorious for people being murdered whilst on it, and someone is behind me._

_Movement somewhere; I glimpse a shadow, a swing of a body._

_"Who's there?"_

_Stand up to 'em, Lauren. Show 'em who's boss. God, I could do with Daphne Blake's kung fu now, or Fred Jones' strength. Inwardly I curse myself for not trying self-defence and hurry on, beginning to panic at the silence, breaking into a trot, a run, a wild sprint that has me sprawling on the pavement, my heel caught in a rut._

_"Gotcha."_

_And then there's someone grabbing at me, their hands rough on my body, and I scream before my mouth is covered, hollering with all my effort, kicking and biting and scratching and writhing, tears streaming down my face as they hold me, drawing something from a pocket, its blank sheen gleaming in the moonlight, like a dead face..._

_And then it's all gone, and so am I. Blake and Jones will definitely get the case now..._

* * *

><p>The sound of a phone ringing shattered the silence of the apartment, causing Daphne Blake to groan sleepily.<p>

"Fred..." she called, still half asleep, hoping that somehow her roommate was already up. But at seven in the morning, she doubted it. Sighing deeply, she slid out of bed, not bothering to put a dressing gown over her nightie as she rushed into the lounge. Walking over to the coffee table where the phone sat, she picked up the receiver and put it to her ear.

"Hello, Blake and Jones?"

It had become a habit to give both of their names, since they got about a fifty-fifty ratio of calls to the flat each. Daphne perched on the back of the sofa as she spoke, ignoring Fred's sleepy admonishing from the room on the other side of the hall.

"I'm calling for both of you. You have a case re-assigned to you from Lauren Graves."

Daphne's first thought was that Lauren, who has had a lot of pressure to refuse the case Daphne knows she's been given, has passed it on.

"I know which case you're talking about. Did Lauren refuse?" she asked, toying with the phone cord, winding it round a perfectly manicured finger. A tiny smile made its way onto her face as she remembered Lauren's big personality, the want to be a figurehead, to stand out; perfectly acceptable in training college, but in the big bad world perhaps not so much a blessing as a curse.

"Well, once you're down here, we'll tell you."

Daphne's smile suddenly vanished as her heart began to beat coldly.

"You're not... tell me, Jimmy."

She recognised the voice on the phone: James 'Jimmy' Bridgewhite, inter-worker for detectives, most recently their and Lauren's shared colleague.

"You know what happens to people on this case, Daphne. People die."

"Jimmy... you're not serious..."

Daphne slipped onto the leather sofa, and suddenly became aware of Fred's arms around her.

_Lazy lummock finally dragged himself out of bed, then?_ She thought.

But whatever she thought, she was thankful for the warm weight of his body around hers.

His hand gently took the phone as she nestled into him, refusing to believe what Jimmy is saying. Lauren's laugh swam in her head, oddly distorted, as though in another universe, as Fred quietly conversed with Jimmy, his brows drawing closer together each second.

"Yes."

Daphne looked up at him, watching his face as he nodded slowly, murmuring an agreement to something, and slotted the phone back onto the holder, both of his arms now free to support Daphne.

"I'm sorry, Daph," he said quietly, and in that instant she knew.

She knew that it was true.

Lauren Graves was dead. And now they were going to have to find the killer.

* * *

><p><strong>Aha! I'm so excited! Are you excited? You should be... :D Huge thanks to my buddy Jazzola with all the help she's given me with this story! EPIC CLAP FOR YOU! More coming soon, I mean it this time. :D And leave a review, it's just below this text. Y'know, that button that says 'Review'? Go on, click it. You know you want to ;)<strong>


	2. Scene of the Crime

The pair sat together for a few minutes, trying to piece together everything in their mind. Fred (although he would easily deny it) hugged Daphne close to him, listening to her quiet breathing mix in with his own. Glancing over at the clock which hung on the wall, he frowned at the time.

"Daphne," he said, and she looked up slowly.

"Yeah?"

"It's ten past seven. We need to get dressed and get down there; get some more information on what's happened," he explained, releasing his hold on her and standing up. He began to walk towards his bedroom, only to turn back to her.

"I'll meet you at the car in five minutes," he added, leaving her sitting on the couch by herself. Looking down at her hands, she let out a ragged breath before standing up, making her way back towards her bedroom slowly. She knew that she shouldn't let these kinds of things get to her; she's seen dozens of cases like this one, and she's solved them too. But this one was different, this time it was her colleagues, her _friends_ that were being killed. It was _that_ which she found hard to deal with.

Pushing open her bedroom door, she was slightly relieved to find her suit already hanging on her wardrobe. It was her favourite one, not just because of its green and purple colouring, but because it brought back memories of when solving mysteries was just for fun.

_But nowadays_, she thought to herself, _homicidal maniacs and psychos seem to be all the range_.

* * *

><p>Just as she was doing up the last button of her blazer there was a knock on her door.<p>

"Are you ready?" Fred called through the door, still knocking slightly. Running her brush through her hair a few times, she turned back to the door. Pulling it open, she found Fred leaning against the doorframe, blocking her exit. He was dressed in his usual 'detecting' clothes; a crisp white shirt and black trousers accompanied by a red tie and a brown trench coat.

"I was coming," she replied irritably, but he seemed to not notice her change of demeanour.

"Alright then, let's get going," he said, moving a few steps back, allowing her room to leave. She walked out quickly, hearing him close her door behind her. As she walked into the lounge, she dug a hand into her handbag, trying to find her keys. Failing to locate them, she groaned loudly, only to hear the noise of jingling metal behind her.

"Lose something?" he asked, a subtle teasing tone evident in his voice. She turned, not bothering to question whether he had actually taken them to annoy her or not.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the keys from him and unlocking the door. Hearing the mechanism click, she smiled as the door opened into the stairwell used to access apartments in their building.

"Here," she said, tossing her keys to Fred as he closed the door behind them. He caught them with his free hand easily, the years of high school football kicking in once again. Briefly smiling at her, he turned back to the door, locking it with the keys as he did so.

Tossing the keys back, they began to make their way down to the car they shared. As they walked side by side, she turned to him.

"But... that's twelve people now, Freddie. Don't you think..." she began, but he cut her off.

"I think we need to discuss this in the car, not where people can hear us." As much as his words irritated her, she knew he was right. Reaching the car, she opened the passenger door and got in, fastening her seatbelt as Fred made his way over to the driver's side.

Once they were buckled up, he started the engine, revving it into life. She sat quietly, her hands clasped and resting on her knees, only vaguely aware of her surroundings as they drove out of the driveway and onto the road. It was Fred's voice which brought her out of her daydream.

"When we get to the station, I'll handle any press that might be there whilst you find Jimmy. I think that's the best idea, don't you?" she nodded, turning to him.

"There won't be any press there just now, will there? It's nearly half seven in the morning!" she replied, and he smirked slightly.

"Word travels fast in Coolsville." He reminded her, and she clutched her handbag tightly.

"I just want to get down to the station, so that we can see where it..." her words faded out as they turned the corner to the police station. They could see the police station about ten metres away, but yet there were about five squad cars and forensic evidence tents positioned at on the pavement not so far from the building itself.

Fred slowed the car down as they both stared out of the window, passing news reporters and police officers who were standing close to the crime scene.

"She was killed only a few metres from the station..." the words fell from Daphne's mouth before she had the chance to stop them. Fred nodded, pulling over and parking the car on the curb. Getting out, they rushed across the road and towards the cordoned off area; the words of various news reporters filling their ears.

"...twelfth victim of the..."

"...Lauren Graves, respected detective..."

"...and Jones have been handed the case by police authority..."

"...killed just metres from her workplace..."

One news reporter in particular, whom they knew to be Natasha Bellmont, gently grasped Fred's coat sleeve as he passed by; causing him to turn towards her and the camera.

"I'm here with Detective Frederick Jones. Frederick, do we know yet of exactly what has happened here?" she asked, pointing the microphone at his mouth. As Daphne watched, she scowled; a wave of jealousy washing over her. She had always known that Natasha had a thing for Fred, and more often than not she would choose to interview Fred than herself. Ignoring their previous plan for Fred to handle the press alone, Daphne stood and watched as Fred gently grasped the microphone.

_Like a Pro_, she thought to herself.

"At this moment, we are not ready to give a statement to the public as to what has occurred here. As soon as we know what's happened, we will release a statement to the public," he explained, offering a quick smile to Natasha before turning and jogging back to Daphne. She wasn't paying much attention to him anymore, only staring at the look Natasha gave Fred as he left. Daphne didn't know why, but it made her blood _boil_.

As they approached the police line, a young police officer held out his hand to stop them.

"Sorry, but it's police access only..." he began, but Daphne and Fred had already pulled out their police badges and were holding them out for display. After quickly inspecting the badges, the officer lifted up the police tape to let them in. Once they were inside, everything became horrifically clear.

Forensic officers were walking around, dressed in their white suits, whilst others were standing inside one of the large, white tents. But in the centre of the madness was a sheet, covering up something on the ground; Lauren. Daphne inhaled sharply when she saw it, again resisting the urge to cry.

_It's all part of the job_, she thought sadly, turning for Fred's comfort only to find he wasn't there. He was never there.

She found him inside the tent, talking to Jimmy. Jimmy was slightly shorter than Fred, and had short, auburn hair and a cheeky face. As she entered the tent, he caught her eye, making her genuinely smile for the first time that day.

"Hey, Jimmy," Jimmy smiled sadly, turning away from Fred so that they were both facing her.

"I'm sorry about Lauren, Daphne. She was a good friend," he replied, and she nodded slowly. It was then that Fred moved forwards slightly.

"How do you think it happened?" he asked, his voice slightly deeper than usual. Daphne had only begun to notice it a few months back; and it intrigued her. She had noticed that whenever Fred was around other police officers or his colleagues, his voice would go slightly deeper and become slightly gravelly. Whether he was doing it on purpose she didn't know; she wasn't an expert on psychology. She had teased him about it, comparing him to the way Batman has two distinctive voices for when he's Batman, and when he's Bruce Wayne. But Fred being Fred, he had brushed it aside, saying that she was just hearing things; even suggesting that she was crazy at one point.

Jimmy sighed, turning back to the makeshift desk which had been set up inside the tent.

"Well, we're not entirely sure yet. But there appears to have been a struggle between Lauren and the attacker which involved a knife. Of course, the weapon is nowhere to be seen, but we can tell from the wound inflicted in her back that it was a butcher knife." He explained, silence hanging heavily over the three. Nobody spoke for a few moments, until Fred cleared his throat.

"Did she..." he paused, swallowing quickly, "...Did she end up like the rest?" he asked, and Jimmy nodded solemnly.

"I'm afraid so; left ear cut off and carvings on her arm. We'll be moving the body in a while to conduct an autopsy and examine the carvings; see if they actually make sense this time," he replied, turning and walking outside into the sunshine. The number of news reporters had doubled since they had been inside the tent, and it was making Daphne feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Fred," she whispered, tugging on his sleeve in a similar fashion to Natasha. He looked down at her, his face calm but serious.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think we need to get the TV crews out of here, and block off the road? I mean, someone's just been _murdered_; surely it would be more respectable to not have dozens of people taking pictures and broadcasting to the news?" she said, and he looked around at the many TV cameras now clogging up the road.

"I-I'll get it done," he replied, turning towards the group of squad cars parked around the crime scene, "Go with Jimmy and get the body moved, I'll catch up," he added before disappearing into the small crowd of people working around the body. Daphne sighed and turned back to Jimmy, who was waiting just before the body.

"You alright?"He asked, and she nodded with the best smile she could manage.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Let's get that body moved,"


	3. A Certain Natasha Bellmont

Natasha Bellmont watched with a smirk on her face as Fred Jones re-emerged from the crime scene. He looked troubled, but then again, he _always_ looked troubled. His powerful figure began to stride across the road towards her and her camera crew, a stern look on his face. It was that look that made her _want_ him so much; that look which seemed to be a cross between determination and angst. And she liked it; a lot. It wasn't that she loved him, no; she didn't use the word love very often. She had very lustful thoughts about him every time he was near. All she wanted to do was to grab him by the collar of his trench coat and kiss him. But his job and his _girl_ always got in the way. Daphne Ann Blake; the name sounded in her mind as her smirk became more like a scowl. She could tell that the poor girl was head over heels in love with the man, even if Daphne herself didn't realise it. And on some level she knew that he loved her too, and that Daphne meant more to him than any woman he would ever meet. That's what made her so angry.

Fred smiled as he approached Natasha, dodging a police squad car which was driving past as he came to a stop in front of her.

"Hey," she smiled, getting up from the fold out chair she had been sitting in. She took a few steps forwards until she was almost touching him, which surprised Fred. But he shook it off, his face becoming serious once more.

"I'm gonna need you to leave," he said, gesturing to her camera crew who were working behind her. Natasha faked a sigh, pursing her lips and placing on finger on his torso, gently stroking the fabric of his coat.

"Alright, but on one condition," she replied. His frown worsened.

"I'm not giving you a choice," he almost growled, his voice deep and gravely like Daphne had said. Natasha smirked, enjoying the way he reacted to her teasing.

"I know, I know. But how about this..." she waited until she was sure he was listening.

"I'll leave, and get the other TV crews to leave too if..." she began, and he raised an eyebrow.

"If?"

"...if you take me on a date sometime," she finished, her eyes dancing as she watched his demeanour change from stern and scary to flustered and stuttering.

"W-well, I don't know. I mean, I've got this case to handle and Daphne probably wouldn't want..."

"Is Daphne your girlfriend?" she interrupted him, making him frown again.

"What? No, she's not my girlfriend, what would make you think that?"

"So you _will_ take me on a date?" she repeated, and he blinked. This woman had confused him beyond imagination, and yet he still found himself wanting to accept her offer.

"Alright. I'll take you on a date sometime. But I'll be very busy the next few weeks," he agreed, and she smiled seductively.

"I'll look forward to it," and with that she reached up and planted a soft kiss on his lips. It happened so fast that he didn't even have time to close his eyes before she pulled away again. Fred stood dumbfounded as Natasha began to clear up her equipment, turning to him one last time before she walked away.

"See you soon, tough guy,"

* * *

><p>Daphne drummed her fingers on the table as she waited for Fred inside the station. Lauren's body had been moved to a room in the basement for closer examination, and now all they needed was for Fred to be there to continue the process.<p>

Suddenly the door to the station was pushed open, and there he was. Walking in slowly, he smiled when he saw her leaning against the table.

"Hey, did the body get moved?" he asked, and she pushed herself up and off of the table, taking a few steps towards him.

"Yeah, they're downstairs waiting for you so that they can start. They're gonna..." she slowly stopped speaking as she noticed the faint red smudge on Fred's lips. Stepping a little closer, she placed one thumb on his bottom lip, examining it carefully.

"... Is that... lipstick?" she asked, and he blushed slightly.

"Well, yeah," he replied, and her disapproval was evident on her features.

"It's Natasha's; isn't it?" she said quietly, trying to contain her anger. He nodded slowly, wiping the remaining lipstick off with his sleeve.

"So what if it's Natasha's lipstick? Why do you care so much? It's not like you're my girlfriend," he replied, using Natasha's earlier remark against Daphne. Daphne paused for a second, and then she placed a hand on his forearm.

"I know I'm not your girlfriend, Freddie, but I care about you. I don't want to see you getting hurt," she explained, and he smiled softly.

"I know. And I won't; she was the one who kissed me!" he protested, making her smile despite the pangs of jealousy which shot through her.

"C'mon, we need to get down there and take a look at this body," she replied, changing the subject for her benefit. He nodded, going back into what she liked to call 'Batman Mode'.

"Right, let's go quickly," and with that they turned to the stairs that led to the basement and began to walk down them.

* * *

><p>"Take off the sheet, Jimmy," Fred said, holding Daphne's hand gently. It had become a habit for him to hold her hand whenever they looked at bodies, as he knew that she didn't like looking at the various states of murder victims.<p>

Daphne bit her lip as Jimmy carefully pulled the sheet off and placed it on a nearby counter, revealing the body of Lauren Graves. Her skin had gone a pale blue, but that wasn't what drew their attention the most. It was the trail of blood that started on Lauren's blouse and made its way up to where her ear should've been. Daphne closed her eyes and buried her face in Fred's shoulder, not wanting to see any more, whilst Fred frowned.

"Where's the ear?" he asked, and Jimmy shrugged.

"We don't know. But what we _do_ know is that Lauren's body is in the exact same state as the other eleven victims," he explained, and Fred nodded.

"What about the carvings?" he questioned, and Jimmy reached over and rolled the sleeve of Lauren's blazer up.

"See for yourself," he said, and Fred leant down to examine the crudely cut carvings on Lauren's pale arm. In spidery lettering, it read 'CKS'. Fred frowned even more, standing up slowly.

"CKS..." he read aloud, scowling, "CKS? What does that even mean?" he shouted, making Daphne jump slightly. Fred turned away from the body, leaning on a nearby countertop; his breathing heavy.

"Just another load of shit which doesn't make any sense," he growled, leaving an awkward silence hanging over the room. Jimmy sighed and picked something up off of a table and handed it to Fred. Fred frowned, turning over the large ring-binder over in his hands a few times.

"What is it?"

"They're photographs of all the carvings found on each victim; maybe you can piece something together," Jimmy explained, and Fred smiled gently.

"I'll look at them later. First I want to see if I can visit anyone who can help us create a picture of what happened," he replied, glancing at Daphne. She nodded,

"Lauren had a boyfriend; I think his name was Darius. Maybe we should start there," she suggested, making Jimmy nod slowly.

"He'll probably want his car back too," he said, making them both turn in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"Lauren's car is still parked outside the station. Why she didn't use it, we don't know. You can go take a look if you want; here's the key," he explained, holding out a set of keys. Fred took them, clasping them in his hand before turning towards the stairs.

"We'll go check it out. Come with us, Jimmy. You'll probably know more about what happened than we do," he replied, smiling gently as Daphne walked up a few steps to join him. Jimmy followed, gesturing to the assistant police officers to cover up the body again.

"Alright; let's go."

* * *

><p>When they pushed the door of the police station open and walked outside, they saw the car Jimmy had been talking about. Fred grabbed the keys between his fingers as they approached the car.<p>

"Where's the key hole?" he asked, his eyes darting around as he searched the door.

"Doesn't have one," Jimmy said, and Fred turned to him with a 'You're kidding me' look, "It's true!" he protested, and Fred sighed. Daphne walked over, taking the keys from Fred.

"There's a button on here which should unlock it," she concluded, pressing it down. The car's indicators all flashed, and Fred went to try the handle. Pulling it, he found that it wouldn't open.

"The lock is broken. Jimmy, run and get me a crowbar," he ordered. Jimmy turned on his heel and sprinted back into the station, returning a few moments later with a steel crowbar. Fred took it from him, placing it in the door cavity and pulling with all his might.

After about forty seconds of continuous pulling, the car door popped open, causing the alarm to go off. Fred, starting to panic slightly due to the loud noise, slipped the key into the ignition and started the car. It revved into life, the alarm stopping its shrieking.

"Wait," Daphne said, and both men turned to her, "Do you think the reason Lauren's car is still here is because it was locked and she couldn't get in?" she pondered, and Fred nodded solemnly. Walking round to the front of the car, he noticed a noticeable scuff on the bumper.

"How'd this get here?" he questioned, and Jimmy knelt down beside him.

"I don't know; maybe she had hit something with the car or she kicked it," he replied, and Fred raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think she kicked it?" he asked, and Jimmy shrugged.

"Well, maybe she got frustrated that her car wouldn't unlock and kicked the front bumper. Chances are she was wearing high heels of some kind, which would be hard enough to leave a mark," he explained his theory casually, and Fred grinned.

"You're good, Jimmy,"

"Why thank you. You're not too bad yourself,"


	4. Promise?

**Remember guys; put this story on your Story Alert so you get to know what happens next straight away!**

* * *

><p>"Lauren's police record says that Darius Flynn lives at this address," Daphne explained as the car pulled up outside a small bungalow. The garden was adorned with various potted plants, and overall it looked like whoever had put them there knew what they were doing. Fred nodded, switching off the engine and opening the door, stepping out into the fresh air. He heard Daphne's door shut, followed by the sound of her heels clacking on the sidewalk as she walked over to meet him. She sighed, turning to look at him.<p>

"Do you think he knows?" she asked, and he blinked slowly.

"Of course he knows, it's been all over the news," he replied, beginning to walk up the crazy paving pathway which led to the front door. Daphne followed, trying to avoid getting her heels caught in a rut as she walked. Fred was already knocking on the door when she reached him, and suddenly a shaky voice could be heard.

"W-who's there?" someone asked through the door, clearly a man. Fred pulled his police badge out of his pocket and held it in his hand.

"Coolsville PD, open up," he ordered, and within seconds the door was opened, revealing a young man. He had a strong face, which was stained with tears, and brown hair which was cut short.

"You're here about Lauren, aren't you?" he questioned, his voice shaky like before. Fred nodded.

"Are you Darius Flynn?"

"Yes. I'm... I was Lauren's boyfriend," Darius corrected himself, opening the door a little wider to let them in.

Daphne and Fred walked inside, and Darius shut the door behind them.

"We just want to ask you a few questions, and then we can take you down to the station if you wish. We're sorry for your loss," Fred explained, and Darius nodded sadly.

"Alright... Just a few questions though, I'm not really in a fit state right now," Daphne smiled reassuringly as Darius led them to a table. Fred and Daphne sat on one side whilst Darius sat directly opposite them, occasionally sobbing quietly to himself.

"Where were you between the hours of ten pm and two am?" Fred asked, and Darius thought for a brief second.

"I was here, asleep. I had been vacuuming before I went to bed, and the vacuum cleaner is still out if you need any proof." Fred nodded to Daphne who wrote down his answer on a notepad she carried with her. Fred sighed, turning back to his notes.

"Did you or did you not receive a call from Lauren between the hours of ten pm and twelve am?" he asked, and Darius shrugged.

"I don't even know. I was asleep and my mobile was in the kitchen. The police department phoned my via the landline, so I haven't even checked yet," he explained, and Fred frowned slightly.

"Could we check your phone, Mr Flynn?" he asked, and Darius nodded, getting out of his chair and rushing through to the kitchen. He returned a few moments later with his mobile phone. Handing it to Fred, he flipped it open and went into the Call History. And there it was; a missed call from Lauren at 11:09pm. Fred handed the phone to Daphne, who dotted down the details before handing the phone back to Darius.

"It looks like she tried to phone you after she left work. From the time of the call we can estimate the time of the murder to be around quarter past eleven," Daphne explained, and Darius sobbed again. Fred cleared his throat slightly.

"One final question, Mr Flynn; what kind of relationship was yours with Lauren?" he asked, and Darius didn't say anything for a moment.

"I loved her," he said quietly, his voice cracking, "I... I was going to propose to her... t-today," he finished, and a silence hung over the room.

"Thank you, Mr Flynn, for your time," Fred said, his voice soft and understanding. Darius nodded.

"Anything to help catch the bastard who took Lauren from me,"

* * *

><p>"So..." Fred began, not taking his eyes off of the road as he drove back towards the station. Daphne looked over at him, yawning quietly.<p>

"Yeah?"

"Do you think he could've done it?" he asked, and Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"Could've done what?"

"Do you think he could've killed her?" he asked again, and Daphne thought for a moment.

"No," came her firm reply, and he glanced at her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Why?" he often tested her like this, partly to understand her theories, and partly because he enjoyed to help make her reach her full potential. Either way, she loved the way he asked her questions.

"Because..." she paused, swallowing quickly, "You saw him, right? He was crying his eyes out; _and_ he has a valid alibi. Besides, he said he was going to propose to her today; so why would he kill her?" she explained, and Fred remained silent for a moment.

"I agree with you. He couldn't have done it. But that leaves us with no main suspects," he replied, and she nodded.

"Maybe we should head back to the apartment for a while; take a look at the file Jimmy gave us," she suggested, and Fred cursed under his breath as he missed a gear.

"Alright; we'll head back. If they need us, they'll call us," he replied, turning left towards their apartment building. Daphne sighed to herself, glancing back at the window, watching the world pass by...

* * *

><p>Fred sipped his coffee as his eyes scanned the pictures in front of him, trying to make sense of whatever the carvings meant. He had already concluded five minutes ago that he couldn't get anything from them, but he wasn't about to let Daphne know that. He glanced over at her; she was sat in the armchair, writing something on a notepad, her brows furrowed.<p>

"What're you doing?" he asked, taking another sip of his coffee. She looked up briefly, then back to her notebook.

"I've managed to link all the murders together," she replied, and within a few seconds he was kneeling beside her, staring at the notepad, "All of the victims were female, they were all detectives working for Coolsville Police Department. And each victim was trying to solve the case of the last victim when they were murdered," she explained, and his eyes widened slightly with realisation.

"So that means that they're organised attacks, and not random," he breathed, and she nodded.

"It also means that hypothetically according to the last twelve murders, whoever's doing it will target _me_ next," she said rather calmly, despite the situation. Fred gently slipped his hand into hers, squeezing it tightly.

"At least we can tell the public that the attacks are not random in the Police Statement," he replied quietly, and she nodded slowly. He smiled sadly, sitting up slightly, "Listen to me; I'm telling you this right now, I will not let _anything_ happen to you, you hear me? I promise," he told her, and she smiled softly.

"Thanks, Fred," and with that he leant over and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, pulling away a moment later.

"Call me if you need me; I'll be in my room," he replied, getting up and wandering off towards his room, leaving Daphne by herself once again. She gently touched her cheek where he had kissed her, treasuring the moment before becoming serious once again. If she was the next target in this serial killer's twisted hunt, then they would need to solve this case.

And fast.


	5. The Red Mask

Blood. That was all anyone ever seemed to see in this job; blood, and lots of it. Jimmy stood on the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets as he stared at the large blood stain etched into the ground. From the way it was spread out, it looked like it could've easily been just a hit and run incident. He chuckled sadly to himself.

"If only it were that simple," he muttered, turning his gaze to the police station. He frowned slightly, before moving off towards the building, passing young police officers as he went. There was something on his mind, something so deep that he felt like it would drown him. It weighed him down, making his movements slower. Pushing open the door to the station, he grabbed the nearest phone and dialled a familiar number; one he had dialled only a few hours ago.

Putting the receiver to his ear, he smiled slightly when it began to ring. Seven times it rang out (he counted) followed by the familiar clicking sound as someone picked up.

"Hello?" a deep voice said on the other end, and immediately Jimmy knew he had reached who he wanted.

"Fred; I've got some news..."

* * *

><p>Daphne read over the case notes carefully, trying to see if she could piece anything together. But nothing seemed to click, and yet again she found her mind wandering to other things. She couldn't deny that she was worried about this case, but she felt something else; something unusual. When she thought about the idea of being the serial killer's next target, she began to feel afraid; a subdued sense of fear installed in everyone being let loose with terrifying results.<p>

It was partly the reason she had gone into her room and lain on her bed; to feel more secure than in the open space of the lounge. She told herself she was being silly, but on some level she knew that she should be afraid. It would help to keep her alive for longer.

She heard Fred's muffled voice outside her door, followed by the beep of the phone being hung up. Who he had been talking to, she didn't know, but she had an inkling that it was something to do with the case. Suddenly her door handle turned, and Fred walked in; his face stern as usual.

"You could've knocked," she said half-jokingly, and he smiled slightly, shutting the door behind him.

"I assumed you wouldn't be lying naked in the middle of the floor," he replied, making her chuckle lightly.

"Please, if I was lying naked on this carpet you would be in here faster than a speeding bullet!" she teased, and he smirked as he leant against her desk.

"Are you suggesting something, Miss Blake?" he questioned, and she blushed very slightly.

"Not at all, Mr Jones," They didn't flirt like this very often, but when they did they could tell that it was very deliberate indeed.

All of a sudden she became serious again, "What did you come in here for anyway?" she asked, and immediately the smile faded from his face.

"I just got off the phone with Jimmy; they conducted an autopsy on Lauren," he explained, taking a seat on the bed beside her. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"And?"

"They're not sure which factor completely caused her death; the knife in her abdomen or the blood loss. Jimmy thinks it was a combination of both," he explained, taking the file out of her hands and producing a pen from his shirt pocket. Opening it up, he wrote down some details on Lauren's page whilst Daphne looked on.

"Anything else?" she asked, and he nodded.

"There was no sexual attack on her of any kind; no rape, nothing. Just like the others," he added, and she nodded in understanding.

"So another unclear motive then?" she replied, and he nodded again.

"Like always," he said with a smile, looking over at her. She grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder. If she could've seen his face, which she couldn't; she would've seen a look of more concern and love than she thought humanly possible. Fred smiled, placing an arm around her and hugging tightly, "He says we should just stay here for the rest of the day; we can take a look at the crime scene tomorrow," he whispered in her ear, making her giggle.

"Alright," she said, getting off of the bed and standing up, "Do you want some lunch?" she asked, and he smirked, getting up to join her.

"I suppose I could eat a sandwich," he replied, making her smile.

"Well then, Mr Jones, it's your choice; turkey or ham?"

* * *

><p>Seven hours later, in a rundown apartment in downtown Coolsville, a man was contemplating his next move. Nobody knew the true nature of his intentions; the sick, twisted nature of his intentions. Holding a red marker pen, he chuckled to himself as he crossed out the face of Lauren Graves on a large graduation picture. It was the next addition to eleven separate crosses, all blotting out various females in the picture. The man smiled wickedly, turning his attention to a large Rottweiler which was sitting on the frayed couch.<p>

"Twelve down; One more to go, eh boy?" he said, and the dog whined in reply. The man chuckled again, reaching over to the table and grabbing a red ski mask. But instead of being made of traditional wool, it was made of a plastic like material. Pulling it over his head, he positioned it so that the eye and mouth holes were in the right position.

"You know, I like this mask. Not only does it cover my whole head, but it scares people too," he muttered to himself, and the dog whined again. The man turned, patting the dog lightly on the head, "I'll be back soon, boy. I just need to go check on someone," he whispered, walking over to the door of the studio apartment. Pulling on a leather jacket, he opened the door and shut it behind him. Locking the door, he smiled to himself as he began to walk down the stairs.

"Get ready, Miss Blake, because I'm about to hit you like a locomotive,"


	6. 415 at Greenmoor Motel

Fred sighed as he placed the ring binder back on the table. It was already nine thirty, and he was beginning to feel the effort of a hard day's work sinking in. Sipping what seemed like his hundredth coffee that day, he tried desperately to make some sense of the carvings. If he were totally honest with himself, looking at pictures of bloody carvings made him feel ill. But he had seen much worse than this.

He was only twenty five years old and already he had witnessed things that would make most men go insane. One murder in particular had always remained in his mind; a woman had been raped before having all of her limbs hacked off, including her head. What was left of her had been left lying naked in an alleyway for an unsuspecting police officer to find. Fred had never been able to forget the first time he had laid eyes on that horrific cadaver; throughout the year after his nightmares were filled with the same scarring image.

When they had caught the guy who did it, a demented hobo by the name of Jack Milled, Fred didn't hesitate to punch the guy in the face. He had hit him so hard it knocked the bum out cold, and Fred had to be restrained afterwards to prevent him from beating the guy to a bloody pulp.

But he was older now, wiser even. He knew that no matter how angry he felt he should never go so far as to beat up a suspect when they'd already been taken into custody. His father would've never done that.

Hearing movement behind him he half-turned in his chair, smiling when he saw Daphne entering the lounge from her room. She smiled back at him, walking over to where he was sat.

"Hey," he began, catching her attention, "Do you have a cigarette?" he asked out of the blue, and she found it hard to find her words for a second.

"No?" she replied, questioning him with her reply also. He smirked.

"Good. You shouldn't smoke," he chuckled, making her giggle quietly.

"Okay then... have we finished with the random questions?" she asked, and he nodded. Daphne leant down beside him, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the table supporting her, "Find anything?" she questioned hopefully, and he shook his head sadly.

"Nope; just like the last twelve times I've tried," he replied, and she lightly patted him on the back.

"We've just got to keep trying, Freddo," she sighed, and he stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Freddo?"

"Yeah, it's a shorter version of Frederick. Very modern, too," she explained, and he smirked.

"Name one person who is known as 'Freddo'," she paused, thinking carefully for a moment.

"Oh! Well, there's that frog on those chocolate bars they sell in England," she said, and he chuckled.

"How the hell did you know that?" he asked, and she grinned.

"I ate them a lot when we went on that residential trip to England with High School," she explained, and he grinned.

"Alright, whatever,"

Suddenly they were interrupted by a faint crackling sound. Fred turned and felt into his coat pocket, pulling out his portable police radio. Someone could be heard talking on the other end, which he recognised as Jimmy.

"Blake and Jones; come in, Blake and Jones," Fred pressed the button to speak and held the microphone to his ear.

"Jones here," he said, his voice suddenly becoming deeper again, "Go ahead, Jimmy,"

"We've had a report of a 415 down at Greenmoor Motel; I need you two to go check it out," he replied, and Fred frowned.

"We're currently working on the Graves murder case; isn't there someone else you can send out?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

"All available officers are currently at home or involved in other street crimes. Get down there as quick as you can," he explained, and Fred sighed.

"10-4, we'll contact you when we get there," Placing the radio back in his coat pocket, Fred stood up and pulled the trench coat back on over his shirt.

"What was that?" she asked, and he sighed.

"A 415 down at that motel a few blocks away; Jimmy wants us to go check it out," he explained, grabbing his keys from the table and making his way over to the door. Daphne breathed quietly, getting her blazer from the back of the couch.

"Do you think we'll need our guns?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I've brought mine," he replied, pulling his pistol out of its holster and showing it to her, "You could bring yours if you wanted," he added, slipping the deadly weapon back into the holster and buttoning up his coat. She frowned slightly, becoming slightly flustered.

"I'll be alright. Besides, when I have a gun on me it usually gives me the shakes," she explained, following him as he exited the apartment, locking the door behind them.

"I know," he replied quietly, smiling softly at her as they got inside their car. The car had been custom fitted with a police radio, so they could remain in contact with their fellow officers in case of an emergency. Fred sighed as he started the engine, revving it into life, "Are you ready?" he asked, and she nodded slowly. He smirked.

"Then let's go,"

* * *

><p>Fred frowned as he exited the car, glancing around what seemed to be an empty motel car park. Daphne walked around the car to join him, feeling more secure by his side.<p>

"It doesn't look like anyone's here," she whispered, and he nodded.

"Start to take a look around whilst I radio in," he instructed, reaching into the car and grasping the police radio receiver. Daphne sighed, her breathing shaky as she began to walk slowly towards the motel, her heels clacking on the tarmac of the car park. Fred watched her go, turning his attention back to the receiver.

"This is car 45K. 10-97 of the 415 at Greenmoor Motel; we'll radio in if we need any assistance. 10-23," he said with his deep voice into the receiver.

"10-4 car 45K. Standing by for further input," a young police officer replied on the other end. Fred nodded to himself, placing the receiver back in the socket and shutting the car door. Seeing Daphne approaching the building, he jogged quickly so that he caught up with her.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, and he frowned.

"You take a look around on the lower level; I'll check upstairs," he explained, quickly walking up the stairs leaving Daphne alone. She sighed, beginning to walk along the rows of doors until she came to the reception room. Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were shaking.

"C'mon Daphne, pull yourself together. There's nothing to be scared of," she whispered to herself. But she was wrong.

* * *

><p>Fred could feel his adrenaline building up inside of him as he searched the upper level of the motel. He wasn't sure why, but he almost felt like something was going to happen very soon. Keeping one hand near his pistol, he pushed open door number 22. The room was dark, but he could tell that someone had been in there recently. The bed clothes were uneven, and a lampshade was on the floor, smashed. Taking a few more steps towards the bed, he gently removed his pistol from its holster.<p>

"Coolsville PD; anyone in here?" he called, groaning when no reply came.

Suddenly the door shut behind him. At first his brain didn't register that someone else must've closed it. But when it managed to, it was much too late.

A fist knocked the gun out of his hand, grabbing his arm and pinning in behind his back. Fred snarled and punched wildly with his free arm, trying to make contact with his mystery assailant.

"Sshh now, Detective. There's no need to struggle," a man chuckled in his ear, and suddenly Fred lost it. He cursed as he kicked and hit the attacker, but his plan backfired. Spinning him around, the man kneed him in the stomach and delivered a swift blow to his head, knocking him out cold.

"Now that was _too_ easy," the man chuckled to himself, the red mask reflecting in the moonlight. Reaching down, he picked up Fred's pistol and tucked it in his jeans pocket, "Don't want you using this now, do we?" he asked an unconscious Fred, chuckling evilly as he exited the motel room.

"And now for Miss Blake..."


	7. Good Night For Swimming

With every passing minute, Daphne's feeling that she should've brought her gun was becoming stronger. Searching the reception area carefully, she sighed as she found yet another empty corner. A few minutes ago she had heard some commotion on the floor above her, but she had dismissed it as something falling over. She was much too scared to think clearly about anything.

Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she saw a piece of paper lying on the reception desk. Walking over she picked it up carefully, her breath hitching in her throat when she read what it said. Scrawled in blood red ink were the words 'LOOK BEHIND YOU'.

* * *

><p>Daphne didn't dare to move. She had heard about people being frozen with fear before, but she'd never actually believed it. Turning slowly, she gasped quietly when she saw the man standing a few metres away from her. He was wearing a brown, bloodstained leather jacket with denim jeans; but what was most prominent was the large, red mask which completely covered his head.<p>

A moment passed where neither of them moved, only staring at each other in silence. For some reason he was grinning menacingly, his sharp eyes staring directly into her own.

"Hello there; sorry to drop in on you like this," he said calmly, and suddenly she began to scream.

"Fred! Fred! FRED!" without warning he rushed forwards, shoving her into the wall. Daphne stopped screaming immediately, the wind knocked out of her. When she looked up, she found his face directly opposite hers.

"Sshh, Daphne. Little Freddie won't be coming too soon," he whispered, chuckling slightly. He was gripping her blazer tightly, holding her up against the wall. Feeling tears sting her eyes, she gritted her teeth and struggled against him.

"Who are you, you son of a bitch?" she growled, and he chuckled.

"Me?" he asked, and she nodded angrily, "Some call me mad... insane even. But you can call me Red," he replied, and she struggled in his powerful arms.

"I'm going to kill you," she snarled, and he laughed heartily.

"You're going to kill me? Oh, Detective, it's quite the contrary. I'm going to kill you," he replied, and then he leant in closer to her ear.

"Just like I killed Lauren Graves..." A lone tear slid down Daphne's cheek, fear mounting up inside her. Where was Freddie?

Suddenly he leant in and kissed her roughly, pulling away moments later, "I know _everything_ about you. I know about your parents, your brother. I even know about your bad case of selachophobia," he grinned, and she frowned.

"You're going to regret this," she growled, and his grin widened.

"I don't regret killing those other twelve women. Why should I regret killing you?"

In one swift motion she kneed him in the crotch, placing both hands on his torso and slamming him to the floor. He groaned, clutching both his crotch and his stomach at the same time. Daphne looked down at him, a scowl on her face.

"I'm different. I _won't_ let you," and with that she ran out of the building and into the car park. She was crying now, running as fast as she could with high heels. Rounding the corner, she found herself beside the motel swimming pool. For a moment the thought of diving in to hide crossed her mind, but once again her phobia stopped her in her tracks. Turning back towards where she'd came from, she saw to her horror that 'Red' was already hot on her heels.

_How did he get up so fast?_, she thought to herself as he broke into a run.

"FRED! FREDDIE! OH, FREDDIE HELP!" she screamed, her voice going up an octave when Red grasped her waist tightly.

"I think you underestimate me, Miss Blake," he snarled in her ear. Suddenly there was a shout, and they both turned to see Fred charge around the corner, running full speed towards Red. Just as he was about to make impact, Red bent down and lifted Fred up in one quick motion, sending him flying into the swimming pool.

As soon as Fred had gone under, he turned to Daphne with an evil grin.

"Don't think that this is over. It's not even begun yet," and in what seemed a few seconds he had vanished, leaving Daphne alone.

Fred pulled himself out of the pool and shook his head quickly. He was soaking, and chances were his phone was probably ruined too. His eyes darted around and found Daphne, rushing over to her.

"Daphne! Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" he blurted out as many questions as he could manage, only to receive no answer. He hugged her tightly, feeling her shake in his arms.

"He... he killed L-Lauren..." she wheezed, suddenly collapsing in his arms. He gasped, kneeling down and holding her carefully.

"Daphne... oh, Daphne..."

* * *

><p><strong>Alright guys, short chapter I know. But Jazzola asked so nicely for another chapter and since I've just come out of a maths exam too I decided to write something quick. There's more coming soon! And if anyone can tell me in the review what selachophobia is I'll mention them next chapter! Adios! <strong>


	8. Selachophobia

Fred hummed quietly as he gently rocked Daphne in his arms. They were back at their apartment, and Fred was currently trying to calm his companion down enough to ask her about what happened. She was sobbing into his shirt, and he could feel the wet patch from her crying growing steadily by the minute. Reaching up with his free hand, he felt the large bump that was producing on his forehead; a souvenir from his encounter with the masked man.

It wasn't that the mask scared him; in his six years of police work he'd seen much more frightening things, but it surprised him. Sure, criminals often wore some kind of head cover to hide their identity, but this mask was different. It looked as if it had been custom made, like it had been made to be scary. He would even go as far to call it demonic looking, like the devil reborn into one mask.

A whimper pulled him out of his thoughts and back into reality, and he looked down to see Daphne's tear stained face pull away from his body.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, and she sniffed.

"I'm better than I was," she replied, sitting up slightly on the couch. He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a miniature notebook.

"I know you're upset, Daphne, but I'm going to need you to tell me _exactly_ what he said to you," he explained, producing a pen from his shirt pocket. She nodded in understanding, sniffing slightly.

"He said that we should call him Red. I guess it's because of the mask," she began, and Fred nodded, writing down the details in the notebook.

"How tall would you say he was?"

"I don't know... how tall are you?" she asked, and Fred paused for a second.

"About five foot eleven inches,"

"Oh, well then judging from your height against his he would be around... five foot nine," she concluded, and Fred couldn't help but smile as she calculated everything so carefully.

"And he was definitely a guy?"

"What kind of question is that?" she chuckled, and he felt slightly better because he had cheered her up, "Of course he was a guy. Either that or a girl with messed up hormones," she added, making them both laugh despite the subject of the questioning.

"And what did he tell you?"

"He told me that he killed Lauren Graves, and all the other women. And that he was going to kill me too," she replied quickly, and he wrote it down carefully, "He knew about my selachophobia,"

The words came out so quiet he almost failed to hear her. He looked up, and seeing the tears fill her eyes again he pulled her into him, gently stroking her silky locks of fiery red hair.

"It's alright, Daph," he paused suddenly, his mind zoning out for a brief moment.

_It's been a while since I called her that, _he thought.

"You don't have to say any more," He continued, "All I needed were the basics, because if what you've said is true then this guy could be the serial killer the entire state has been searching for these last few months," he explained, and she nodded, pulling away again.

"Maybe I should go to bed," she muttered, and he smiled softly.

"That's a good idea. I'll get to bed too," he replied, standing up and making his way towards the hallway which led to their rooms. Stopping, he turned back to her, "Are you coming?" he asked, and she almost jumped back to life, getting up and walking over to him.

"Sorry," she replied with a small smile, moving around him and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She seemed shaky in his eyes, and it worried her. He had known about her fear of sharks since they were children; whenever they were watching TV he would always have to be ready to turn it off if a shark advert came on. It was when they both turned eighteen that she finally told him the cause of her phobia.

* * *

><p>When on holiday in the Mediterranean as a child, she had been calmly swimming in the sea beside her parents' boat when suddenly she heard them screaming. Turning in the water, she saw a massive fin gliding towards her, and she swam for her life. Daphne managed to get out of the water in time, but not before the Great White Shark had risen out of the water and was trying to get a hold of the boat. She had stood, frozen to the spot as her ten year old eyes stared at the rows of teeth and the evil eyes; the image that had stayed with her for the rest of her life.<p>

* * *

><p>But how this 'Red' had known about her phobia which she often kept to herself was beyond him. He sighed deeply, turning to his bedroom door and stepping inside. Hearing Daphne sing to herself in the bathroom, he smiled as he began to undress; at least she was cheering up now.<p>

After he was comfortable with what he was wearing to bed (no shirt and grey sweatpants) Fred poked his head out of the door just to see Daphne about to enter her room.

"Hey!" he whispered, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Fred! Don't scare me like that!" she smiled, and he smiled back.

"Are you ok now?" he asked with concern in his voice, and she nodded.

"Yeah, thanks Fred," she replied, reaching out and holding his hand for a few moments, "Night," she whispered, and he smiled softly.

"G'night,"

* * *

><p><em>The rain pelted down as Daphne walked through the streets of Coolsville. She had walked down them many times before, so she would notice if anything was different; today they seemed oddly distorted, like they were being manipulated by some madman. It wouldn't have surprised her.<em>

_Suddenly the street melted away, everything going dark. She tried to scream but couldn't find her voice as she plummeted into a dark space. It wasn't the normal kind of darkness, but the kind of black you would only find on a moonless night. She couldn't see anything._

"_Hello, Daphne," a menacing voice echoed around her, and she turned sharply, trying to find the source of the sound._

"_Who's there?" she shouted, and there was a chuckle._

"_I think you know perfectly well who it is, Detective," the voice replied, and he heard faint footsteps._

"_You see, I'm not planning on giving up until I get you. Every day I'll get closer and closer and closer..." the footsteps were louder now, their pace quickening, "... until one day..." suddenly they were face to face, her eyes staring into the cruel, sharp ones of Red._

"_...I'll be right in front of you. You know what they say," he leant in until his mouth was right beside her earlobe._

"_Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer..."_

* * *

><p>Daphne's eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly in her bed, trying to get her breathing under control before she started to hyperventilate. A thin layer of sweat coated her skin, and she found herself to be shaking. Getting out of bed, she stumbled across the room to her door, prying it open as she felt tears glisten her eyes. Taking three steps across the hall, she found herself in front of Fred's door. She had already made up her mind as to what she would do. Turning the handle, she pushed it open and stepped inside.<p>

The sound of the door shutting woke him up, and he stared at her frightened figure from his bed.

"D-Daphne?" he asked, still half-asleep, "What're you doing here?"

She sighed deeply and took a step towards him, and he realised that she was crying very softly.

"I... I had a nightmare," she explained simply, and he sat up in his bed and ran a hand through his hair, "Can I sleep in here with you?" she asked, and he was slightly taken aback by her question but soon recovered.

"Alright," he replied, pulling the covers back so that she could get in. She smiled gently, clambering in beside him. He flipped the covers back over them both, but instead of holding her like she had half-expected; he rolled over onto his right side and closed his eyes. She frowned slightly, but she was thankful for his warmth and security either way.

Settling down to go to sleep, she reached out her hand and was about to touch his back when she stopped herself.

_It's not the same as before_, she told herself as she shuffled away from him slightly. Sighing gently, her thoughts travelled to the last time they had both shared that very bed. But that was for very different reasons entirely...

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys hoped you liked this one! Sorry I haven't been posting much, I've literally just finished a week of exams so I've been very busy! Jazzola was the first person to tell me the correct meaning of Selachophobia, which is of course the fear of sharks so well done! That's the third phobia of mine, the first two being Arachnophobia and Spheksophobia. Anyway, enough about my phobias, more coming soon! Oh, and I don't know about you, but just thinking about the whole Daphne shark attack segment made me go all funny... sharks are scary :S<strong>


	9. Hot, Steamy Coffee

Daphne opened her eyes and yawned sleepily, stretching her arms as she sat up in the double bed. Feeling a slight sense of déjà-vu, she turned to her left to see that it wasn't entirely the same as when she'd last woken up in that bed. Sighing, she slipped out from under the covers and quickly made the bed, turning to the door. Walking over, she pulled it open and dashed out, hoping to make it to her bedroom before...

"Good morning," his words made her jump, and she turned to see him standing fully dressed at the end of the hallway, "So you finally decided to get up?" he asked, taking a few steps towards her. She scowled at him, turning the handle of her bedroom door and stepping inside.

"What does it look like?" she replied sarcastically, going to close her door but finding that he had already blocked the entrance.

"Perhaps my bed was too comfortable?" he questioned teasingly, a smirk on his face as she pulled her work clothes out of her wardrobe and set them down on her bed.

"Are you going to leave? Because I need to get dressed," she snapped, and he chuckled slightly.

"Sorry, sorry; I'll go," and with that he stepped out of the doorway and walked off towards the living room.

"Pervert..." she grumbled, but somehow he heard her.

"What?" he called, making her growl as she picked up her shirt.

"I said you're a pervert!" she shouted, and he laughed heartily causing a small smile to appear on her face.

"Thanks!" he replied sarcastically, and she smiled as she began to get dressed. No matter how angry she got with him, it often wouldn't take much for him to cheer her up again. He was good at that.

* * *

><p>Happy with the way she looked, Daphne pushed open her bedroom door and walked into the living room, where Fred was sat on the couch with a newspaper. Hearing her footsteps, he looked up.<p>

"Jimmy just called; he needs us down there right away," he explained, tossing the newspaper to the side and standing up. She nodded, taking a moment to look into his eyes. Why she was doing it she didn't know, but he seemed to notice, "W-why are you staring at me like that?" he asked, not breaking the eye contact.

She suddenly had an idea, and it was such a good idea that it made her smirk. Being careful not to break the eye contact, she gently grasped the front of his trench coat.

"You know, Fred, you and I have a lot in common. We're young, we work hard..." she paused, looking at him with the sexiest look she could manage, "...and we're both _very_ good looking,"

At this point his 'Batman-Mode' was on, and he was staring at her as if she was wielding a rocket launcher and pointing it at his mother.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, and she smirked, moving her hands lower so that they were on his stomach.

"We both work _so_ hard; don't you think we ought to be able to _treat_ ourselves from time to time?" she chose which words she emphasised carefully, and it was having the desired effect on the man. His 'Batman-Mode' was weakening, and he was beginning to look slightly scared.

"W-well... it depends w-what you mean by... treat," he stuttered, feeling himself being pushed back towards the wall behind him. Daphne was enjoying herself too much to stop now.

"C'mon, Fred, you're a Detective. _Work it out_," she almost whispered, and she could see him begin to sweat slightly.

"Daphne... you know we can't," his words were shaky, and his breathing was starting to lose control. Fred felt his back hit the wall, and now Daphne had him pinned; a pawn in her seductive game.

"But why not? We both want this, so why don't we?" her hands moved even lower, and she hooked her fingers around the front belt-loops of his trousers.

"D-daphne..." he groaned, shifting slightly against the wall. She smirked, leaning up until her mouth was beside his left ear lobe.

"Let's give into our temptations, Freddie. We both want this; you and me, together," she whispered huskily, and she now could feel that her words were having a certain effect on her companion.

"Yes..." he moaned, looking at her lustfully as she leant back down to face him. Beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead now, and his chest was rising up and down rapidly.

"Here's what we're going to do, Fred," she paused, tugging gently on the belt loops, causing him to groan again, "We're going to go over to that couch, and you are going to make hot, steamy..." he suddenly reached forwards, grasping her elbows with his hands and closing his eyes.

"Just say it, Daphne!" he growled huskily, and she smirked.

"... Coffee for me,"

For a moment there was silence before he opened his eyes, and he stared at her like she'd gone mad.

"What?"

"We're going to go over to that couch, and you are going to make a hot, steamy cup of coffee for me before we leave; did you not get that?" she repeated with a sincere smile on her face. He stared at her with his mouth wide open, trying to process what had just occurred.

She suddenly removed her fingers from his belt loops and punched him in the arm; not hard enough to bruise him, but just enough so that it would hurt.

"Don't mess with me in the mornings, because two can play at this game, Frederick Herman Jones," she growled, frowning as she backed away from him and walked off in the direction of her room, "I'm going to my room to get my handbag, you... sort yourself out, and then we'll go," she explained, turning and disappearing from his sight.

He stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before he could fully run over what had just happened. She had managed to expose his weaker side and certain other things in fewer than two minutes, which angered him slightly. But what confused him the most was how ready he had been to do what she had been suggesting to him. He shrugged it off, straightening up before realising that he really did need to 'sort himself out'. As he walked away, one thought was on his mind.

_She sure showed me..._


	10. Jealously, a Deadly Sin

Jimmy smiled to himself as the familiar car turned the corner and began to drive down the street. The pair were considerably late, although why he didn't know. Turning to look back at the crime scene, he sighed. Even though the body had been moved, it was still depressing to look at.

The sound of car doors shutting snapped him out of his thoughts, and he smirked when he saw Detectives Blake and Jones walking towards him, Fred looking slightly angrier than usual.

"Hey!" he called, waving his hand as they moved closer. Daphne smiled to acknowledge him, whilst Fred just nodded.

"What did you call us down here for?" Fred asked sternly as he approached the line of police tape. Jimmy cleared his throat slightly, holding up the tape so that they could pass underneath.

"We'll discuss that in a minute; why are you so late?" he asked, Fred beginning to answer only to be cut off by Daphne.

"Something came up; nothing special. What's important is that we're here _now_," she explained, crouching under the police tape and walking through. Jimmy turned to Fred, looking for a more detailed answer, only to see that his cheeks had reddened.

"Right, let's get on with it," Fred muttered, passing under the police tape and holding it up for Jimmy.

When the two men caught up they found Daphne kneeling beside a noticeable scuff mark on the sidewalk.

"What do you think this is?" she asked, and Jimmy knelt down beside her.

"That's what I wanted you to see; this mark is around ten metres from where she was actually murdered," he explained, and Fred bent down to examine it carefully.

"Which means that she broke into a run long before she was actually killed," he added, and Jimmy nodded.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, and Daphne frowned.

"So the killer might have made himself known to Laura before he killed her?" she pondered, turning to Fred.

"Or she was really jumpy and paranoid, which caused her to run whenever she heard a noise. I suppose she had good reason to be," he replied, pausing for a moment. Daphne stood up slowly, gently tugging on Jimmy's sleeve so that he rose with her. Fred noticed this, but decided against commenting.

"We need to talk to you about our encounter with the supposed killer last night," she explained, and Jimmy turned.

"You met the killer?" he asked, and Fred nodded as he stood up.

"He appeared when we went to investigate the 415 you asked us to check out last night," he began, glancing briefly at Daphne, "He knocked _me_ unconscious and then went after Daphne. He told her about killing all the victims," he explained, and Jimmy nodded, "Oh, and then he chucked me in a swimming pool," he added, causing a small smile to appear on Daphne's face.

Jimmy sighed, turning to Daphne.

"What did he tell you?" he asked, and she frowned again.

"He told me that he was the one who killed the eleven women detectives and Lauren Graves, and that his name was Red," she replied, and Jimmy frowned.

"He was wearing a red, rubbery mask which covered his entire head; I guess that's where the name comes from," Fred explained, folding his arms across his chest as he spoke. Jimmy nodded.

"I'll go run some of the details through the police database; see if anything comes up about this 'Red' guy," he muttered, turning back towards the police station and beginning to walk away.

"I'll come with you!" Daphne suddenly called, jogging to catch up with her colleague as they walked towards the police station, leaving Fred by himself. He grumbled to himself as he watched them walk away, pushing up his tie slightly as he turned back to the road. As he walked back towards where he had parked his car, a young police officer stepped out in front of him.

"Excuse me, Detective; may I have a moment?" he asked, and Fred frowned.

"Alright, but make it quick. I'm currently working on a _murder_ case," he replied sternly, and the police officer gulped slightly.

"If you're going to drive about the city, could you keep an eye out for a Gabriel Eldorado?" he began, and Fred thought for a second.

"I think I know the guy; Mexican, right?"

"That's right. He's been on parole recently for assault but hasn't returned. We haven't found him yet," he explained, and Fred offered a small smile.

"If I see him, I'll get him. Don't worry about that," he replied, gently pushing the officer aside and walking towards his car. He wasn't sure about where he was intending to go, but he just wanted to leave Daphne and Jimmy to their work. Trying to ignore the obvious pangs of jealousy that coursed through his veins, he started the car and revved the engine, sighing as he pulled away from the sidewalk and out into the road.


	11. Chase

Biting into her breakfast bagel, Natasha smiled as she walked down the main street in Coolsville City Central. It was only around ten in the morning, and already the street was clogged up with traffic. She had decided to walk to work, as to take a taxi would've taken longer in the traffic. The news station was only a twenty minute's walk from her flat anyway, so it wouldn't take long.

Just as she was about to take another bite from her bagel, she heard her name being called. Sighing, she turned, half-expecting another fan wanting her autograph. But instead she turned to see the one man she desired more than anything leaning out of his car window, smiling at her.

"Natasha?" he repeated, and she smirked.

"Why hello there, Detective; you've not come to take me in, have you?" she replied flirtatiously, coming to a stop just in front of the open window. He chuckled deeply, shaking his head.

"I was just wondering if you wanted a lift?" he explained, and she thought for a moment. She had a choice of spending twenty minutes walking in the fresh air, or thirty minutes inside a car with Fred Jones.

"That's very kind of you, Fred. I'll accept your offer," she smiled, walking round the front of the car and opening the passenger door. He smiled as she fastened her seatbelt, closing the door and getting comfortable in the seat; Daphne's seat.

"Where are you heading?" he asked, and she smirked.

"Work," she replied, and he nodded.

"So that's Coolsville News Corp, situated on the corner of Duke and Maple Street?" he said to himself, and she grinned.

"How do you know that?"

"It's my _business_ to know that," he replied, and she smirked.

"Wow, stalker much?" He chuckled, pulling away from the sidewalk and out into the road.

"It's not being a stalker; your police file has everything I need to know about you in case you ever do something illegal," he explained, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Go on then, impress me with your knowledge," she instructed, and he grinned.

"Natasha Elizabeth Bellmont, twenty seven years of age; brought up in Miami, Florida," he listed, and she scoffed.

"Stop, you're scaring me," she joked, and he chuckled again. Oh, how she _adored_ that chuckle.

"Sorry," he replied, suddenly noticing someone on the sidewalk beside them. Natasha was still laughing, only stopping when she realised that their speed had dropped to around ten miles an hour.

"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing his stern face.

"That guy; he's skipped his parole. Radio me in some backup, I'm going after him," he explained bluntly before stopping the car completely. Pushing open the door, he stepped out just as the suspect turned around to see what was happening behind him.

"Gabriel Eldorado!" he shouted, and immediately Gabriel took off, running down a side alleyway. Fred groaned before beginning to give chase, turning into the alleyway and sprinting after the runner.

"There's no way I'm going back to jail, _gringo_!" Gabriel shouted, shoving a garbage can into Fred's path as he continued to run.

"Shit!" Fred cursed as a leftover pizza hit him square in the chest, splattering all over his trench coat. Quickly removing his coat, he chucked it behind him as he sprinted as fast as he could, "I WILL SHOOT!" he shouted, his voice becoming hoarse as he removed his gun from its holster. Gabriel didn't seem to care, as he continued to run away from his pursuer.

_Warning shot... always give them a warning shot_, Fred reminded himself, waiting for the right moment before shooting his pistol into the air. That did it.

Gabriel stopped immediately, his hands above his head.

"Alright, alright, _gringo_! Don't shoot!" he pleaded as Fred advanced, all the while pointing the pistol at him.

"Keep your hands where I can see them!" he ordered sternly, sweat beginning to form on his forehead from running.

"_Si, si_! Just don't shoot!" he replied, keeping his hands above his head. Fred sighed and placed the gun back in its holster, which was now visible since he'd lost his coat.

"Gabriel Eldorado, you're under arrest for skipping parole and resisting arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and _will_ be used against you in a court of law," he explained, placing the Mexican's hands behind his back and handcuffing them tightly. Gabriel just nodded, not wanting to make the situation any worse than it already was.

* * *

><p>Natasha watched carefully as the supposed criminal was driven away in a police van, back to prison once again. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see Fred re-emerging from the alleyway, holding his stained trench coat in his hands.<p>

"Aw... what happened?" she asked, concern in her voice as she walked over to him. He sighed deeply, turning the coat over in his hands as he did.

"When I was running after him he chucked a garbage can at me, which had a pizza in it," he explained, and her expression softened.

"Well, I could take it home and wash it, if you'd like?" she offered, but he shook his head quickly.

"No, it's alright. I'm sure Daphne wouldn't mind washing it," he replied, opening the door to the car and throwing the coat in the back seat before returning to Natasha.

"Well then... it was cool to finally see you in action. Proves that you're not all just big talk and tough looking," she teased, and he smirked.

"Yeah well... I am pretty tough," he replied, making her giggle. He turned, glancing at the road as the traffic began to move again. She watched him carefully, smiling as she saw his face change as he was thinking.

"Fred?" she said, causing his eyes to snap back to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"I can walk from here; thanks for the lift," she explained, hoisting her handbag up onto her shoulder as she spoke. Fred nodded slowly, smiling gently.

"Well you better get going, you don't want to be late," he replied, patting her shoulder before turning back to his car. Opening the door, he sat down in the leather seat, leaving the door open so that he could say goodbye, "See you soon," he called, and she smirked.

"Not if I see you first," she replied, winking seductively as she turned to walk away, "Oh, and I'm still looking forward to our date," she added, and he smiled as he shut the car door, watching her walk away before starting the engine. Leaning back in the seat, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

He did like Natasha. She was certainly very pretty, and he enjoyed being around her. But he couldn't get past the feeling that he was almost 'cheating' on Daphne whenever he flirted with her, which didn't make much sense to him. Shaking his head sadly, he put his seatbelt on and put the car into gear, pulling out onto the road and turning in the direction of the police station. Thoughts of how he was going to catch this 'Red' were flowing through his mind. He used to be able to set traps to catch the bad guys; now the bad guy had trapped him in one...

**Alright guys, another short chapter I know. But there's more coming soon, I promise. I'm aiming to have this finished before my birthday (September 7****th****). And just to reply to one of the reviewers, BBlvr, I'm sorry I haven't updated in over a week but I've been really busy with things going on in my life right now. I have to devote **_**some**_** time to real life. And just because I haven't updated in a week it doesn't mean I'm going to just leave this story and never ever finish it, because believe me I have **_**big**_** plans for this story. It's actually going to be a series, so no way is it over; not yet. Anyway, sorry if I've been a little mean, I'd love to hear what you like about each chapter in your review instead of saying that I haven't updated. That would mean a lot :) **


	12. Coolsville Dam

"So..." Daphne began, tapping her pen against the palm of her hand, "...find anything?"  
>Jimmy swivelled around on his computer chair, turning to face her.<p>

"Not yet, but it'll take a minute to search through all the files," he replied, smiling as they sat in one of the Police Department's many offices. Daphne nodded, looking down at the notepad in her lap as she made some notes.

"So what's it like living with Fred?" Daphne snapped her head back up to look at Jimmy, who was sat looking at her with a cheeky grin on his face. She raised an eyebrow, placing her notepad on the countertop beside her.

"It's alright; why do you ask?" Jimmy shrugged, spinning on his chair slightly as the computer worked in the background.

"I don't know. He just seems like a... intense guy," he replied, making a over the top intense face which made her smirk.

"Well, that's just who he is," she paused, thinking about him for a moment, "He's been through a lot; he wasn't always so _intense_," she explained, being careful not to tell Jimmy too much.

"So you've known him for a long time then?" he asked, and she nodded with a smile.

"A _long_ time; since Kindergarten," she replied, smiling as Jimmy turned back to the computer.

"You must know him better than anyone else." Daphne swallowed, trying not to go red in the face. She hadn't expected all of these questions.

"What's with the Spanish Inquisition? You know Fred too; Fred's Fred!" she half joked, and Jimmy nodded as his eyes scanned over the data on the screen.

"Yeah, I know Fred as my colleague. You know him as your friend and roommate," he explained, leaning back in his chair and gazing at her, "I'm not trying to annoy you. I'm just stating the obvious; you know him better than anyone, not even his family."

Daphne stood up, walking over to the coffee machine and pressing the cappuccino button.

"I guess so; but he was pretty close to his father," she reminded him, and Jimmy smiled sadly.

"I reckon Fred's going to be Police Commissioner one day, just like his old man," he said, making her smile as she grasped the polystyrene cup of cappuccino in her hand.

"I think so too."

Suddenly the computer beeped, and Jimmy swivelled back around to face the screen.

"Nope, nothing. Just what I thought," he sighed, drumming his fingers on the desk. Daphne groaned, sipping her drink slowly.

"Nothing at all?"

"Nope."

Daphne shook her head, suddenly finding the cappuccino much less appetising than before.

"Great; I suppose I'll just head home and try and work something out from that stupid file," she grumbled, making Jimmy chuckle.

"That's all you can do in this situation," she turned to him. He was standing now, walking towards her, "Nobody ever said that this job was easy,"

Daphne sighed as he joined her at the window, and they watched the traffic together for a few minutes.

"It's just..." she whispered, and he looked over at her, "... poor Lauren."

Seeing her eyes fill with tears, he gently wrapped his arm around her, pulling her slender body into his. She buried her face in his chest, weeping softly into his blue shirt.

"I know... it's ok..." he soothed, rubbing her back caringly. In the midst of the moment, he couldn't help but notice that her hair smelled divine, almost like strawberries. Kissing the top of her head lightly, she pulled away, still sniffling.

"I-I'm sorry, Jimmy," she sobbed quietly, and he smiled gently.

"You don't have to be sorry; c'mon, I'll drive you home. Do you want me to phone Fred and tell him to go home too?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No. I'll phone him," she replied, and he nodded.

"Well, let's get going."

* * *

><p>The fresh air seemed strange to him, as he had always been used to the city air of Coolsville. But now, as he leant against the steel railing above the huge Coolsville Dam, the air felt good in his lungs. After dropping Natasha off at her workplace, he had decided to get of the city and take a drive up to the Coolsville Dam. He had been stood at the top of it for around half an hour, staring into space as he sorted his thoughts.<p>

His father used to bring him up to the Dam as a young boy. Fred could always remember the purity of the air and the sound of the falling water. Life had been so much simpler back then; he had been so innocent and pure, just like the air. He would never be able to return to that state again, not after the things he had seen and done.

He honestly didn't mean to be the way he was with other people; especially with Daphne. She had put up with his moods for almost nine years; he was worried that one day he would go too far and she would just leave him. Lots of things had contributed to building the man he had become, but one stood out in particular. One that he didn't like discussing with many people, not even Daphne. It had shaped the way he thought, the way he acted and the way he spoke. But most of all, it had killed him inside, causing the coldness he sometimes showed towards his friends and colleagues. He felt numb.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" said a voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. Fred turned, only to see a young boy standing beside him, staring down at the cascading water below.

"The Dam; it's beautiful, isn't it Officer?" he repeated, looking up at the Detective with an innocent face. Fred smiled softly.

"Indeed," He replied, turning back towards the scenery.

"My Grandfather helped build it, y'know," the boy told him, smiling as Fred turned back to face him.

"Really? Well, he did a fine job," Fred smiled, squatting down so that he was level with the boy. The boy was around nine years of age, with brown hair and green eyes, sporting a New York Yankees baseball cap.

"Yep."

They both stared out at the view for a few moments, when suddenly Fred felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"Oh." Picking it up, he saw that it was Daphne, "Sorry, Champ, I've got to go. Important Police stuff," he explained, standing up and beginning to walk away.

"You will catch him, won't you?" the boy asked suddenly, and Fred spun back around.

"Who?"

"The man who killed Lauren; you'll catch him?" Fred frowned, partly with sadness and partly with confusion. The boy stared up at him with an almost pleading look in his eyes, and Fred saw the same innocence that he had once shared with this boy. The fact that he knew about the murder of Lauren meant that his innocence was already draining.

"Yeah... I'll catch him." He smiled reassuringly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a five dollar bill.

"Here," he said, handing the bill to the boy, "Buy yourself some sweets..." he paused, trying to think of what the boy's name was.

"It's Charlie; Charlie Smith." The boy replied, putting the bill in his jeans pocket.

"Take care of yourself, Charlie, alright?" Fred said quietly, ruffling the boy's hair before walking away to take the call...


	13. Sandwiches, Sewers and Showers

The apartment seemed cold as she walked in, or perhaps it was just the way she was feeling? Taking off her blazer, she casually draped it over the back of the sofa, not thinking straight. Many things were clouding her mind, but the image that she couldn't get rid of was the eyes; the sharp, green eyes of Red, the supposed killer. She was so certain that she had seen those eyes before, but yet she couldn't think where. But she had to keep herself alive, or else it wouldn't even matter anymore.

* * *

><p>The sudden whirring of the central heating made her jump, and she decided that she would phone Fred sooner rather than later. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and typed in Fred's number, which she had learned by heart many years ago. Putting the phone to her ear, she sighed as it began to ring. Fred had set his phone so that it would ring the maximum number of times, so she realised that if he wasn't there she would be waiting a long while to leave a message.<p>

It must've been a good thirty seconds before he answered; she had counted out of boredom as she sat on the sofa quietly. His voice seemed different than usual; distant even.

"Hey Daphne," he greeted her, and hearing his voice comforted her slightly.

"Hey, could you come home? I really think we should try and study this file a bit more," she replied, winding a stray strand of red hair around her index finger as she talked.

"I guess it is nearly lunchtime...yeah, I'll come home." His voice sounded off, and it troubled her.

"Are you alright? Where are you? I can hear water," she asked, recognising the sound of falling water.

_He better not be in the sewers. If he is, I'm not helping him get the gunk out of his hair; not after what happened last time... _she thought, reminding herself of a certain case a few years ago. Fred had chased a criminal into the city sewers (Daphne had refused to even step near the entrance) only to end up covered head to toe in gunk and other unmentionables. They had spent three days trying to wash Fred's hair clean, and she wasn't willing to go through such trauma again.

"Don't worry, I'm not in the sewers..." he chuckled, making her smirk, "...I'm up by the Dam." She raised an eyebrow, knowing that the Dam was at least half an hour outside the city.

"The Dam? Why are you up there?" she questioned. She heard him sigh on the other end.

"I just wanted to get out of the city for a while; sometimes the traffic fumes are too much to take, you know?" he explained, and she nodded even though he couldn't hear her.

"I know; just come home soon. I don't like being alone right now," she admitted, hastily glancing around the apartment. But somehow she felt safer with Fred on the other end of the phone.

"Just one thing..." he added, and the tone in his voice changed ever so slightly.

"What?"

"Could you make me a sandwich?" In an instant, she was furious with him. Not in the mood for his wicked sense of humour, she stood up quickly.

"You know what? Get home, and make your own God damn sandwich!" and with that she ended the call, flinging the phone down on the sofa lightly as she still didn't want it to break. Grabbing her blazer and handbag, she marched down to her room, throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind her.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, she really hated him; hated him for his complete lack of awareness when it came to people's feelings. Perhaps he thought it was funny to tease a poor young woman, perhaps it gave him his sick kicks? She sighed deeply, sitting down on her bed and burying her head in her hands.<p>

The fact was, he was the most complex man she had ever met. Everything he did had a deeper meaning to it, and just when she thought she had finally figured him out, he did something completely unexpected. She knew about the deep, psychological issues that he had about his family and his childhood; things he would only ever discuss when he decided to. Luckily she already knew about all of them, as she had been there when they had occurred in the first place.

His father was the man responsible for the making and breaking of Frederick Jones. He had taught Fred so much, but at the same time almost destroyed the boy she had once knew. That broken boy had grown up to become an equally broken man; haunted by the events of his childhood. Events that only a few knew about, but would rarely speak of.

Daphne groaned, realising how exhausted she was. Standing up, she made her way over to the bathroom she shared with Fred to take a shower. Stopping to stare at herself in the mirror, she sighed. She did indeed look exhausted.

* * *

><p>Placing the last of her clothes neatly on top of the washing basket, she stepped into the shower. The warm water felt good on her skin, and she began to wash herself quietly. It would take Fred at least half an hour to get home, so she had plenty of time. All the time she was showering, she was trying to focus on happy things. The truth was that she was feeling vulnerable; even more so since she was naked with her back turned to the door.<p>

_Daphne Blake, if you start thinking of that film Psycho... _she warned herself, shaking her head sharply to get that famous scene out of her head.

_Why oh why did you watch all those horror films?_

She was half expecting Fred to burst in and scare her in the shower, knowing his strange sense of humour. He had done things like that in the past, which had lead to some very interesting... _situations_. Now that she thought about it, if he did do something like that she probably wouldn't resist him; she hungered the comfort and security of his arms.

She did love him, really. Deep inside, anyway. Daphne knew that she did love him, she could just tell from when she looked at him. But her love for him wasn't as strong as it used to be, and now that he could be a complete jerk if he wanted to be there were more times when she was certain she would gladly tell him where to go.

Sure, in the past there had been moments where their romantic interest in each other had become physical, but they had both decided that they wouldn't act on what had happened in the past.

Finding that she had finished washing, she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing her lilac towel and wrapping it around her slender body. Her hair was wet and desperately needed _something_ done to it, but she would deal with that later. Grabbing her clothes, she smirked; she didn't want to give Fred the pleasure of seeing her unmentionables. Walking through to her room, she shut the door behind her and flopped down on her bed.

The next item on her agenda was to get Fred to make his own 'God Damned Sandwich'...

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys! Blake and Jones is back, baby! YEEEEAAAHHH! Anyway, I want you all to go vote on my poll (check my profile) and tell me what kind of case our Crime Solving Duo should solve next! :D Review please! XD<strong>


	14. That Time of the Month

"...and onto more local news; the serial killer who has claimed twelve lives so far, the latest being Detective Lauren Graves of the Coolsville Police Department, is still at large. Police are advising residents of the Brookside District of Coolsville and the surrounding area to remain indoors at night when possible and avoid being on the streets _alone_ between the hours of 9:00pm and 6:00am. The killer is reported to wear a red mask which covers his entire head and responds to the name 'Red'. If you see an individual such as this, contact police immediately and do not approach him, as he is _extremely_ dangerous..."

Daphne switched off the TV, sighing deeply as she ran a hand through her freshly straightened hair (not that straightening her hair did much; it was naturally wavy).

"_...still at large..." _the words echoed throughout her head, taunting her incompetence to solve the most important case they'd ever been assigned. Was she a failure? Or, to be more specific, were _they_ a failure? Everyone was relying on them to solve this case; Blake and Jones had come to the rescue many times before. It was their ability to work together as an effective unit, plus the fact that they both had developed brain power and interrogation skills that had made their name in the first place.

She remembered the case that _had_ made their names; the Berk Murders. One by one, a family of six had been brutally killed whilst out for walks on their large estate near the Coolsville Dam. Their bodies had been disembowelled by what seemed to be a large animal of some sort, but Fred suspected something even stranger. After investigating the surrounding area (including one terrifying night on the estate which Daphne preferred to forget) and its residents, they discovered that a man named Daniel Evans had trained a large Irish Wolfhound to hunt down members of the Berk Family, all because of the way they had treated his late father whilst under their employment. Evans set the Wolfhound on Blake and Jones, but thanks to Fred's quick reflexes the dog was quickly destroyed. Evans had made a run for it, only for Daphne to shoot him in the knee. It was all over pretty quickly after that; the media was all over _them_, and soon enough Blake and Jones were household names in Coolsville.

Now they were household names for entirely different reason; they were failing to catch a dangerous criminal who could strike again at any moment. They had no suspects, no clues and no evidence to even make a guess as to who the killer was. And all she could think about was how that she would be next; if they didn't find something soon she could be just another cadaver in no more than a week. She couldn't bear to even think about it.

* * *

><p>The mechanism clicked as the front door was opened. Daphne half-turned in her chair, watching as Fred entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him. She hadn't even heard the car pull up; he was sneaky like that.<p>

"Hey," he greeted her, placing his stained coat on the kitchen table. She replied with a small noise, turning back towards the blank TV. He frowned, loosening his tie slightly.

"Thanks for yelling at me down the phone, I really enjoyed that," he said sarcastically, and she groaned.

"I wasn't in the mood for your stupid sense of humour! Some of us are trying to solve a case, not standing at the top of a Dam!" she replied, still not looking at him. He smirked, finding the way that she was reacting slightly amusing.

"I needed a break; I had to chase down a criminal this morning," he explained, and she huffed.

"Oh wow; you, a police officer had to chase down a _criminal_? What a shock!" she cried sarcastically. He chuckled lightly, taking a few steps towards where she was sitting.

"Is it that time of the month again?" he asked suddenly, and she turned quicker than he had ever seen her turn before.

"W-what? No!" she exclaimed, her face turning a shade of bright pink. He grinned.

"Then I think I know why you're so mardy," he replied, and she turned back towards the TV again.

"Why?" He knelt down behind her chair so that his head was resting on her shoulder, an interaction she didn't reject.

"It's because I'm a jerk, and you have a fiery temper," he explained, and she scoffed.

"You're right; you are a jerk. But I don't know what you're talking about! Me, fiery temper?" she questioned with a hint of humour in her voice. He smirked as they both stood up together, facing one another in the room.

"C'mon, Daph, you have the _worst_ temper at times; you almost _killed_ a guy once because he made your Subway Sandwich wrong!" he chuckled, making her truly smile for the first time that day.

"Alright, alright; but how do you confuse chicken with steak? That's what I want to know!" she joked, and he laughed. Pulling her into a hug, he lightly kissed the top of her head.

"I guess I should make my own God Damn sandwich now, right?" he asked jokingly, and she chuckled.

"No, no... I'll make it for you," she replied, pulling away from him and walking towards the kitchen, "You want the usual, right? Chicken, tomato and mayonnaise?" she called, and he grinned.

"Yeah, _chicken_, not _steak_!" he laughed, and she giggled.

"Got it,"

"If you get it wrong, I'm going to kill you!"

"Oh be quiet!"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys! How're you all doing today? Alright, <strong>_**another**_** short chapter I know!**

**You guys: Really, Hayley, again? We wanna find out what happens you silly potato!  
>Hayley: I'm doing the best I can guys!<br>You guys: Bull Crap! I'm sitting here, eating my chicken and steak sandwich, and I wanna know who Red is, whether Daphne's gonna die and why Fred's such a mean mardy pants!  
>Hayley: Well geez, if I tell you all of that now don't you think it'll ruin the surprise?<br>You Guys: Hmm... I suppose. But you're still feeding us these short chapters!  
>Hayley: Alright, I'll try and get this story wrapped up (no pun intended) by Christmas.<br>You Guys: That's better-  
>Hayley: BUT!<br>You Guys: Argh! What is it now? My sandwich is getting cold!  
>Hayley: You have to go subscribe to my ***BRAND NEW CHANNEL***on YouTube!<br>You Guys: Say WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAAATTTTT?  
>Hayley: All you have to do is visit my FanFiction Profile, follow the link to my ***FANFICTION CHANNEL*** (and my main one if you're feeling especially nice) and subscribe! Then you'll be the first people to know about any upcoming fics or anything else I might be doing!<br>You Guys: That sounds awesome!  
>Hayley: It is... it is... XD MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *cough*<strong>


	15. Fred's Young, Right?

"I'm going back down to the station later; Jimmy needs my help again," Daphne explained as they ate their sandwiches together at the small dining table they kept in the living room. Fred nodded, finishing his mouthful before speaking.

"Help him to do what?" he asked, partly out of curiosity and partly due to the jealously that he felt whenever she mentioned Jimmy's name. It wasn't that he wanted Daphne all to himself, oh no, but he felt like he was the one who had to look out for her. He had nearly lost her many times before, and each time he had relentlessly blamed himself for whatever predicament she had got herself into. If he ever _did_ lose her, he didn't know what he would do. He wouldn't kill himself, but it would be something close to that level of angst. And with Daphne being the next target on a psychotic maniac's relentless killing spree, he felt even less comfortable letting her out of his sight for more than a few hours.

Daphne rolled her eyes subtly, but he still managed to pick it up.

"We were going to try and piece some things together; at least _try_ to reach a rough conclusion," she replied, getting up to place her plate in the dishwasher. Fred nodded again, mainly to himself as he sat alone at the table.

"I just want this to be over..." she sighed, turning to look out of the window. The weather had turned sour; heavy rain pelting down onto the street below, causing the sky to be dark and gloomy despite it being two o'clock in the afternoon. Sometimes she hated the city.

Fred finished his last mouthful, picking up his plate and disposing of it in the same fashion as Daphne. Walking over to her timid stance, leaning against the countertop with her arms folded across her chest, he carefully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug.

As his warmth enveloped her within his strong arms, she exhaled deeply. That deep, shaky breath was all that was needed to describe the way she was feeling. It was like letting the air out of a fully pumped tyre; all the tension and pressure just bursts out. He hated to see her like this; so vulnerable and frightened of what was to come. Squeezing her tighter, he gently leant his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the wonderful aroma of her fiery red hair. Oh how he wished he could just make it all better.

Releasing his hold on her for a moment, he held her at arm's length and smiled.

"Don't be scared; _please_ don't be scared," he pleaded, and she nodded slowly, "I'm never going to let him get you; you hear me? _Never_," he promised, gripping her arms slightly.

"Good," she managed to say, and he smiled even more. The eye contact was intense, and just as he was about to walk away she did something he hadn't suspected.

A few seconds after he completely removed his touch from her body, she grasped his elbow, spun him around and kissed him. It lasted for at few seconds before she pulled away, her face almost shocked at what she had done. She quickly doubled the distance between them, her back hitting the other countertop as her face reddened considerably.

Fred just leant against the countertop for a few moments until he looked across at her, a look of both sadness and confusion.

"Sorry!" she blurted out, obviously not sure _why_ she had just kissed her best friend on the lips. He smiled gently, knowing that she probably felt a lack of security when he walked away and needed something to comfort her. He had learned a lot about psychology during his life.

"It's alright; don't worry about it," he whispered, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't even know..." she began, burying her head in her hands and breathing heavily.

"Daphne..." he called, causing her to look up at him immediately, "I'm not mad at you, so please don't get upset."

Daphne paused for a moment, walking away from the kitchen and sitting on the sofa. He watched her intently, all the time worrying about her.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again, looking at him with a serious look painted onto her angelic face.

"We're going to solve this case," she said with determination in her voice, but he could still see the uncertainty in her eyes. He smiled, crossing his arms over his torso.

"We will; we always do, don't we?"

* * *

><p>"Alright..." Daphne sighed, sitting up slightly, "I need to go; Jimmy will be waiting for me," she explained as she began to gently push herself off of the couch. They had been lying in each other's arms on the couch for nearly two hours now, and Fred had drifted off gradually and was now half asleep.<p>

"No... no... don't go..." he groaned sleepily, pulling her back down again with minimal effort. She chuckled, resting her head on his powerful torso.

"I _need_ to go, Freddie. Remember that case we're meant to be solving?" she joked, and he gently stroked her hair.

"You _need_ to stay here... remember your friend, Fred?" he replied, and she giggled as she placed her hands on his chest and pushed herself completely out of his grasp.

"C'mon, don't be difficult," she pleaded, toying with his tie in her hands as she knelt over him. He smirked, opening his eyes slightly.

"I'm not..." he smiled, sitting up slightly so that he leant against the arm of the couch. He couldn't quite remember how they had ended up napping together on the couch, but nevertheless he had enjoyed the brief time of peace they had shared. Daphne seemed happier to say the least.

She paused for a moment, examining his tie in her hands before coming to a conclusion.

"Do you ever wear anything else?" she asked, and Fred raised an eyebrow.

"What're you talking about?"

"Shirts; do you ever wear anything other than shirts?" she repeated, softly stroking the fabric of his shirt sleeve. He thought for a moment, subconsciously reaching up and fondling his collar.

"Do pyjamas count?" he questioned, and she chuckled.

"No." He grinned, sitting up even more.

"I guess not... I'm usually at work all the time," he explained, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the couch. She smiled, standing up and turning to him.

"I don't mind, I think shirts suit you," she said, and he smirked.

"Thanks, now go on; you don't want to be late," he hurried her along, getting up to walk her to the door.

"Ok, see you later," she called, opening the front door and going to shut it behind her.

"Daphne," he placed his arm between the door to stop it from closing. She turned.

"What?"

"Be careful, ok? I don't want to lose you this close to solving this thing..." he warned, looking into her eyes as she stood outside the door. She smiled, linking his free hand with hers.

"I will; you don't need to worry about me," she replied, causing a large smirk to appear on his face despite the apparent seriousness of the conversation.

"_Riiiight_, so I guess we're forgetting the whole 'Danger-prone Daphne' thing?" Fred reminded her, and she rolled her eyes.

"That was a long time ago, Fred. I'm much more capable now," she reminded him, and he mimicked her, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever. You better get going, you'll be late," he replied, gesturing towards the stairwell with his arm. She nodded, hoisting her handbag onto her shoulder and turning away.

"Alright," she called, "I'll see you later,"

"Yup," Fred replied. And with that she walked down the rickety staircase and out of sight.

* * *

><p>Fred watched her go, and remained standing at the door a good minute after he had heard the rumbling sound of her car's engine completely fade away. It was the quiet moments like these, from standing at the front door to even going to the bathroom, which he valued so highly in his life. They provided a break, a small break, but a break nonetheless from his the hectic and demanding realities of his everyday life. That was why he lingered in the doorway, staring into the dimly lit stairwell that led to various other apartments in the complex.<p>

Finally, after what seemed to be a brief two minutes, Fred slowly shut the front door and locked it. Above everything that had been going on recently, the only thing he seemed to be concerned about at that moment was the fact that Daphne had pointed out a very scary reality; he only ever wore a shirt and tie. Sure, he had faced scarier things in the past, crazy Irish Wolfhounds and dangerously unstable criminals to name a few, but the fact that he had managed to sink to such a boring level of only wearing work clothes was disturbing him slightly. In his mind he was still young, only five years ago he wasn't even old enough to drink! Surely people must've mistaken him for a thirty year old, or even worse- a thirty five year old.

He couldn't bear to think about it any longer. Fred sped off; being careful not to bang his feet as he raced down to his room, throwing the door open as he leaped inside. His room was surprisingly untidy, with various clothing item strewn about the floor. None of which, he noticed, seemed to differ from shirts. Walking over to his wardrobe, he quickly removed his tie and pulled his shirt over his head, cringing as he heard it rip in places because he didn't undo the buttons.

_It's alright..._ he thought, reshaping his messy hair with his hands... _I have dozens of more shirts..._

Facing his mirror, he observed his muscular torso and arms.

"I'm young, right?" he asked himself, flexing his biceps and watching his reflection, "Yeah, I'm young! And I'm hot too!" he told himself with great enthusiasm. He was now performing many kinds of bodybuilder poses in front of the tall mirror, almost trying to reassure himself in the matter.

"Everyone else would know it too if I didn't wear shirts all the time!" he remarked, turning away from the mirror after realising that the curtains were open. Walking over to his wardrobe, he yanked the doors open and gazed at the collection of clothes in front of him.

Shirts, shirts and more shirts.

His face dropped slightly as he pushed the coat hangers aside one by one only to confirm his suspicion; there were only shirts there.

"What?" he mumbled, searching through them with increasing pace, "There must be _something_ other than shirts here!" he exclaimed, but still found no evidence to support his cause. His levels of disbelief reaching dangerously high levels, he decided that he would clamber into the wardrobe and continue his search for any other clothes he might posses, and Narnia if he was lucky...


	16. Poor Police Investigation

"She's late," Jimmy muttered, glancing at his wristwatch to confirm the fact. It wasn't unusual for Detective Blake to be late for meetings, but with her in the killer's line of sight he couldn't help but worry for her safety. Standing up, he walked over towards the large bookshelf that was situated in the office. Floating his fingers over the various titles, he grasped the book he had been looking for. Pulling it down from the shelf, he opened it on a random page and read a few sentences. It was a book on the infamous 'Black Dahlia' murder in the 1940s, a case that nearly every police officer had wondered about at one point in their careers.

Jimmy had been fascinated with it since he had first heard the story from his mother when he was fourteen. What intrigued him most was the fact that the perpetrator of this _horrific_ crime had gotten away with it. How had he done it? The woman had been _cut in half_, and yet the police seemed to just let him slip away. Was it that easy to commit first degree murder and get away? Yes, apparently it was.

* * *

><p>The familiar sound of a car pulling up outside stirred Jimmy from his thoughts. Placing the book back where it had come from, Jimmy straightened out his tie and waited for her to enter. He had butterflies in his stomach, as if his entire body was building up to her coming through the door. The tension was unreal.<p>

Sure enough, the door handle turned and Daphne Blake waltzed in, her handbag hoisted onto her shoulder in an elegant fashion. She smiled when she saw him leaning against the bookshelf, only causing the butterflies to intensify.

"Hey Jimmy, sorry I'm late," she apologised, setting her bag down and taking a seat at the table. He smirked, pushing his body off of the shelf and walking over.

"That's alright, what's important is that you're here and we can crack on with this," he replied, taking the seat opposite her and sliding a large ring binder over to her. She raised an eyebrow, turning it over in her hands and flicking through it briefly.

"What's this?" she asked, and he reached over to show her certain pages.

"A file full of evidence from the other murders; colour coded for each category," he explained, and she nodded.

"Okay..." Daphne began to read the first page, and Jimmy waited for a few seconds as he debated saying something in his mind.

"Daphne?" she looked up, a gentle smile on her face as she stared at him.

"Yes, Jimmy?"

"How far have you got with solving the case?" he questioned, and she paused, obviously searching for something to say.

"Uh..."

"Any witnesses?"

"No."

"Clues?"

"Only a few..."

"Suspects?"

"Uh..." she paused again, thinking of Darius Flynn, "Uh, no... no suspects. Apart from 'Red', of course, but we don't know who he is," she explained, her face forming a slight cringe as she realised what he was getting at.

Jimmy chuckled slightly, slowly getting out of the chair and standing up, beginning to pace around the table as if he were interrogating her.

"Have you heard of the 'Black Dahlia' Murder, Daphne?" he asked, and her cringe turned into a look of mild confusion.

"Yes, Elizabeth Short; of course," she replied, remembering the harsh lectures about it in Law School. Jimmy smirked silently, still pacing as he took in her words.

"Tell me, _Detective_; how can a man commit such a _horrifying, gruesome_ murder and not get caught?" he continued, leaning his hands on the table and staring at her. She almost failed to find her words.

"Uh... well, back then they d-didn't have as good technology as we do, so DNA might've been m-missed or..." she stuttered, feeling sweat break on her forehead as his eyes burned into her. His bright, emerald eyes which burned like fire.

"Or?"

"...or the poor Police Investigation..." she added, knowing almost immediately that she'd just dug herself a deeper hole.

"A _Poor Police Investigation_! That's it, Daphne! With the Black Dahlia, they had hardly any _clues_, hardly any _witnesses_ and hardly any _suspects_!" he exclaimed, jumping up with as much enthusiasm as someone who'd just seen their child walk for the first time. She frowned, staring down at the table.

"I see what you're getting at Jimmy, but we're trying our best!" she replied, and immediately he snapped back round to face her. In a way, he was scaring her.

"Really? Because it seems like all you've done is stay at home and drive a few places!" Daphne was angry now, standing up and pushing her chair under the table roughly.

"Yeah, well what about you? You haven't done anything apart from mope around the crime scene saying 'Oh look, _another_ scuff! How amazing!'" she imitated him harshly, and he almost laughed.

"What about me? I'm not even a Detective, and yet I still help you because obviously you have no idea what to do! I could just go home and do nothing, but yet I'm trying to assist you! This whole 'Investigation' thing isn't even part of my job description!" he defended himself, making wild gestures with his hands. Grabbing her handbag, she marched over and standing right in front of him.

"Even so, you have no right to bring me down here just so you can shout at me, like I'm some sort of criminal you interrogate in jail! I don't have to deal with this, I'll solve this on my own, with or without Fred or you!" she shouted, and the look on his face told her that his instantly regretted what he had said. As she turned to walk away, he grasped her shoulder, not so hard that it hurt but hard enough so that she couldn't get away.

"Daphne," he half warned, half pleaded. She turned back, slightly annoyed that he wasn't removing his hold on her arm.

"Jimmy, let go of me," she ordered, and his expression softened.

"I'm sorry, Daphne, it's just..." he paused, looking down at the ground for a moment, "I want to solve this case as much as you do... those twelve people were my friends too... I shouldn't have shouted at you like that," he sighed, looking into her eyes so that she could see that he was sorry.

* * *

><p>There were a few moments of silence before she suddenly burst into tears, hugging into him as she sobbed into his chest. His face bared a look of concern as he gently held her in his arms.<p>

"Daphne, what's wrong?" he asked, and she looked up at him.

"Everything that you said is true!" she exclaimed, and he shook his head rapidly.

"No it's not Daphne, I wasn't thinking straight... I didn't mean any of what I said," he reassured her, and she pulled away from him.

"Are you sure?" she sniffed, and he smiled.

"Yes..." in the midst of the scene he had placed his hands on the sides of her face to comfort her, and suddenly he found himself being drawn towards her. Maybe this was what the butterflies had been about...

* * *

><p>Jimmy leant in and gently pressed his lips to hers, savouring the taste for a few seconds before pulling away again. Her expression was blank, as if she were fighting something inside of her at that very moment. Still unsure about her reaction, he leant in again and kissed her with more intensity, surprising himself when she began to kiss back. Her hands reached for his tie, grasping it tightly as the kiss became more passionate, their tongues wrestling with each other's as they began to push each other around, getting lost in the sensation.<p>

Daphne felt her back hit the wall, still lost in the kiss. It felt so good to have a man holding her again. Hell, she hadn't had this kind of intimate contact for nearly two years, how could it _not_ feel good? Their hands began to roam freely, running over each other's bodies with increasing speed. It was only when he tried to unbutton anything that she would push his hand away; she wasn't quite prepared to take it _that_ far.

As she continued to kiss him, she couldn't ignore the strange sense of familiarity that stirred within her. It troubled her so much that she broke her lips away from his, placing her hands on his shoulders to prevent him going back for more. She noticed the obvious red smudge on his lips, concluding that it was a _very_ passionate kiss with someone she had considered to be an acquaintance.

"Have we kissed before?" she asked out of the blue, and he raised an eyebrow before smirking.

"Uh, no... But we could kiss again, if you want?" he replied, leaning in to capture her lips once again. But she stopped him, placing her hand to his lips and slipping out of his grasp.

"No... I really should get going Jimmy, Fred'll be worrying about me and..." she mumbled, the awkwardness of the situation sinking in fast. He nodded, shuffling his feet on the floor nervously.

"Yeah..." he replied, watching her gather up her things and turning to leave. She was just about to open the door when he stepped forwards, throwing his hand out like he was trying to stop her mentally.

"Daphne!" he cried with a tone of urgency as if he had been waiting to say it for an hour. She turned, staring at him with a questioning look.

"Yeah?" he hesitated, as if he was making the biggest decision of his life.

"Do you think that the Carvings might _spell something_?"

The suggestion hit her like a freight train. Images of the crudely cut carvings flashed within her mind, and all of a sudden it became clear. Without thinking to question Jimmy on his reluctance to tell either of them this theory, she grabbed the file off of the table and fled the room. Jimmy stood there, listening to the sounds of the hurried footsteps on the stairs, the slam of the front door and the roar of the engine as Daphne sped away. Then, without a word, he walked over to the table, sat down, and sighed deeply. It would all be over soon...


	17. Heavenly Burrito

"There! Who says I don't wear anything other than shirts?" Fred exclaimed, standing in front of the mirror defiantly. He was now wearing a white t-shirt with an upside down 'Pepsi' Logo in the centre. That would've been fine; it was the fact that the t-shirt was _much_ too small for him and was practically skin-tight that was most bothering. He sighed, finding it surprisingly hard to do so due to the shirt restricting movement of his torso.

"Ah, who cares? I like it," he muttered to himself, turning and walking out of his room and into the hallway. The apartment was very quiet, something he wasn't used to. In the past, they had often remained together when solving the case; not driving separately and being miles apart.

Fred frowned as he walked into the living room, thinking about things inside his head. He didn't like it when Daphne was out of his sight for too long. In his mind, he was the only person looking out for Daphne. She didn't speak to her family anymore, and they had long since packed their bags and moved five States away; she didn't have many friends other than himself that he knew about. He remembered the first few months of the entire case, where Coolsville Policewomen started to get picked off one by one. It had devastated Daphne, the only 'girlfriends' she had were all taken from her in such a brutal way. He would often hear her crying herself to sleep at night, and because of the way Daphne crying affected Fred's conscience he would usually go through to her room and hold her until the tears stopped flowing. How he loved to hold her in his arms.

It was almost like he was her protector, her guardian. He protected her like a father protects a daughter; a brother protects a sister...

"...a boyfriend protects a girlfriend," he thought aloud, slouching down on the couch and cringing when he heard his t-shirt rip. They were the same really; he could count the people he considered 'friends' on one hand and he didn't speak to his family either. Well, he couldn't speak to them even if he wanted to; they were dead. But he never talked about that with _anyone_...

Finding that he could feel the fabric of the couch on the skin of his back, he decided that the shirt had to go. Standing up, he grasped the white fabric by the collar and ripped it off of his body with ease. He grinned wildly, revelling in his own strength before reminding himself that it was very cheap fabric. Bending down and grasping the ripped pieces in his hands, he stood up and walked down the hallway and into the study. Scanning his eyes around the small room, he found his toolbox situated on a pile of books. Opening it up, he tossed the rags inside; they would come in useful for cleaning his car.

* * *

><p>He was about to leave when he spotted a book out of the corner of his eye. Turning back around, he reached up and pulled it off the shelf, blowing the dust off of the cover. It was a red photo album, with the words 'Good Times' written on a label by Daphne. Fred frowned, trying to remember when Daphne had put the album together. He had seen it before; images of Daphne proudly showing him the album flashed throughout his mind.<p>

"Six years ago?" he realised, sitting down on the computer chair and staring at the leather cover. Had it really been that long? Being careful not to damage it, he gently flipped open the cover and gazed at the first two photos. The first one made him both happy and sad at the same time; it was a picture of Daphne and himself at a party. Judging by the way that he looked in the photo, he guessed he must've been sixteen. Fred was just smiling at the camera, whilst Daphne had leant over and kissed him on the cheek at the exact moment the picture was taken. Fred smiled, reading the little comment Daphne had written at the bottom.

'_Freddie, my 'best boyfriend'! lol_' Fred chuckled to himself, remembering the times when all they did was hang out with each other. Life had been so much easier then, before homicides and rapists were common things Fred encountered in his day to day life. Did he regret becoming a police officer?

_No,_ he thought, _the things I've seen have made me stronger..._

The second photo made his breath hitch in his throat for a moment. It was a picture of four teenagers and a large dog, standing next to each other and posing for the camera on a sunny day. A fourteen year old Fred was standing on the far left, his arm around the shoulder of a similarly aged Daphne. Fred glanced at the other three occupants of the photo, gently running his fingers over the plastic casing.

"Velma, Shaggy and Scooby..." he muttered, smiling sadly as he remembered his old friends. He hadn't seen Velma in such a long time it scared him, and poor Scooby Doo had eventually died of old age. Fred sighed when he thought about Shaggy, the only real 'guy friend' he had ever known. Shaggy left them all many years ago and they hadn't seen him since. Sometimes Fred would have nightmares about the whole thing, worrying about his friend out in the big wide world.

Daphne's note put it simply, '_The Gang'_. Fred smiled, remembering how they would drive around solving mysteries for the pure fun of it.

"Fun?" he chuckled sadly, closing the album and placing it back on the shelf, "Now we solve mysteries to make sure that people don't get brutally murdered..."

* * *

><p>Cooking had never been one of Fred's strong points; doing five hundred press ups was a piece of cake, but baking an actual cake was a real challenge. Having searched through the kitchen cupboard for five minutes, he had only managed to find a pack of microwavable burritos. Although the picture on the packet showed a burrito that had obviously been prepared by angels, he soon discovered that the ready-to-microwave burritos inside the packet looked much less appetising. Nevertheless, it was the only hope of dinner that Fred had, Daphne being away and his cooking skills virtually non-existent.<p>

Placing the burrito in the microwave, he shut the door and set it for two minutes, smiling slightly at the beeping noise the buttons made. Now all he had to do was wait.

The window in the kitchen gave a direct view of the T-Junction their apartment building was situated beside, which meant that Fred could see anything and everything that occurred on the road. As he waited for his burrito to cook, he watched the traffic as it passed by, his eyes scanned the road looking for any signs that Daphne might be returning.

He hated it when she didn't call him, it always led to his mind portraying terrible images of the many horrible things that could've happened to her. Fred sighed, folding his arms across his chest. It was when he felt the skin on skin contact between his forearms and his torso that he realised he was still shirtless.

Seeing that there was still a minute left for the burritos to cook, he turned and began to walk in the direction of his bedroom. Opening the door, he stopped as he considered his options. He knew that the only things in his room were shirts, but he distinctly remembered that Daphne had borrowed some of his t-shirts to sleep in. Maybe she still had some in her room?

* * *

><p>Opening Daphne's door, he slowly stepped in. The purple and lilac infused room almost felt like forbidden territory; he even glanced behind him to make sure she wasn't standing there with a disapproving look on her face.<p>

"Think, Fred, think..." he muttered to himself, scanning the room with his eyes, "If you were a girl..." he paused, finding the statement itself rather amusing, "...where would you keep your nightwear?" His wandering eyes found their target; the chest of drawers. Walking over, he sighed when he heard the microwave beep loudly.

_In_ _a minute_, he thought, opening the first drawer only to slam it shut again.

"Alright..." he breathed, composing himself, "...try not to open the _underwear_ drawer again..."

Kneeling down, he decided to open the bottom drawer next. To his surprise and relief, the first thing he saw was a football jersey. Picking it up, he flipped it over to see 'JONES' printed on the back.

"Yup. That's definitely mine," he smiled, pulling the jersey over his head and putting his arms through the sleeves. It fitted nicely; the only thing that was different was that it smelt like Daphne. But he didn't mind.

Realising that he had just looked through his roommate's stuff, he chuckled, "God, if Daphne could see me right now she would _whoop my ass_!"

Turning back towards the door, he walked across the lilac carpet and left the room, closing the door behind him. Now his attention was focused on the burritos.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he opened the door of the microwave and stood clear of the wave of steam that poured out. Not wanting to burn himself, he grabbed a towel from the towel rack and carefully pulled the burrito out of the microwave. Fred's face fell as soon as he saw the _thing_ he was holding. Instead of looking like the heavenly burrito that had been shown on the packet, Fred could only describe this culinary creation as a 'Brown Mess'. Sighing, he placed the plate down on the table and prepared himself.

"Food poisoning, here I come..."


	18. The Lonely Diner

The sun had vanished quicker than usual, and now the familiar sensation of rain hitting her car windscreen surrounded Daphne. She had parked on the side of an almost empty street in East Coolsville, as far away from the Police Station as she dared to drive. Sitting in the driver's seat, Daphne watched with stern eyes as the rain continued to belt down, obstructing any clear view she had been able to see through the windscreen previously. The doors were locked; she was smart enough to learn from her mistakes. When she had just started out in the Law Enforcement Career, she had been parked on a street like the one she was parked on now, looking through notes from a meeting she had just attended. Suddenly the door on her side of the car was yanked open and a particularly nasty looking man grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her onto the sidewalk. At first she had thought that he was going to attack _her_, but instead he released his grip and made for the driver's seat. If she hadn't have been trained in martial arts, Daphne was certain that she would've lost her car. But luckily she made quick work of him, and he had to be sent to the _hospital_ before he was taken to a police station.

Water splashed up onto the passenger side window as another car drove by, snapping her out of her thoughts. Turning in her seat, she eyed the folder full of evidence that lay on the back seat. Part of her wanted to rip it open and see if the carvings spelt anything so that this case could be finished once and for all, but another part of her was almost... afraid to. She had no idea why, but it was like some invisible force was preventing her from opening the folder. But she knew that she would have to open it eventually.

Turning back to her original position, she looked across the street to see the bright lights of a small diner. It looked relatively empty, with only one person inside who Daphne could see from the car. Even if it had been full of people, it was still better than sitting in a car whilst the heavens opened above her. Making up her mind that she would walk over, she hastily grabbed the folder from the back seat and placed it in her lap, turning to search for her handbag which she had stashed in the foot well of the passenger seat.

Just as she leant over to grab the brown leather bag, her phone began to vibrate in her blazer pocket. Sighing as she repositioned herself for what seemed the millionth time, she pulled out her phone and checked the caller ID.

"Fred..." she whispered, staring at the screen for a moment before pressing the 'accept call' button and putting the phone to her ear, "Hey," she said, trying to sound cheerful. She could hear the sounds of cutlery and plates in the background, so she assumed he was either emptying or filling the dish washer.

"Hey. I just called to make sure you're okay," he replied, sounding considerably more relaxed than she was. Daphne couldn't help but smile; it was nice to know that he looked out for her.

"I'm fine, Jimmy didn't keep me long," she paused, wondering whether to tell him about the recent revelation that had been revealed about the evidence. But she decided against it, thinking that it was her sole responsibility to check the carvings for signs of connections at that moment in time, "...I just need to clear my head; I'm gonna go get some coffee before I come home," she explained, and she heard him sigh.

"Alright, but don't be too long. Remember, there's a _serial killer_ on the loose," he reminded her, and she chuckled slightly to disguise her nerves.

"I'll be careful, Freddie. You don't need to worry about me," she joked, and he chuckled also.

"That's when I worry the most," he replied, his voice sounding calmer than his usual 'Batman' self. She liked him when he was like this, because he was more like the Fred she used to know. Before the _incident _occurred which changed Fred's life and the Fred she had once known forever.

"Oh stop it, you. I could kick your ass; I'm very capable," she said, and his laugh was loud and clear this time.

"I don't doubt it, now hurry up and get your coffee so you can get home," he hurried her, and she nodded, mostly to herself.

"Alright, I love you..." the words had escaped her lips before she had a chance to stop them. Fred's silence on the other end only added to her embarrassment. She had heard about Freudian Slips before, but she'd never expected herself to have one.

_Oh God, if this is some subconscious thought or wish shit, I really don't have time to deal with this..._ she thought quickly, becoming very flustered. She debated shouting 'Okay see you later!' and hanging up the phone, but part of her wanted to hear his response. Whatever response she had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been the one he gave her.

"...I love you too, Daphne. See you later," and with that he hung up, the dial tone ringing out steadily as she sat with the phone still glued to her ear. Taking a second to let his words echo throughout her mind, she placed her phone back into her pocket and grabbed her handbag.

"Jesus, Fred..." she muttered, opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement, "...why do you have to be so complicated?" Locking the door, she dropped her keys into her bag and began to walk quickly towards the diner. The rain was still pelting down, so she picked up the pace as she reached the other pavement. High heels were hard enough to walk in normally, but in rain they were _impossible_...

* * *

><p>Fred had never really noticed how cold a room could be with just one person in it before. He knew how tension could ice an atmosphere over, and how embarrassment could heat it in an instant, but the moment his phone dropped from his hand onto the arm of the sofa he realised just how lonely the little room was when he was alone, cold in a way no thermostat could ever affect and no radiator could ever hope to thaw.<p>

And somehow, that hurt. A lot.

The photo album had brought back a lot of memories, some pleasant, others less so; Fred, priding himself on his heart of steel, had fought for many years to hide his emotions, without realising that it only meant they would be even more potent when they did eventually burst out. It happened rarely, and he was able to control it to a degree, but Fred still felt like the little boy he had once been in these brief glimpses of vulnerability, crying softly with his brother in the same police station he now worked in. Even then he'd had the gang around him, but Daphne was out now, beyond his reach, and his loneliness in that moment was threatening to strangle him. Fred groaned, tilting his head back, curling up on the sofa and running his hands over the goose bumped arms beneath his sleeves. He really wanted Daphne home. Really, really wanted her home.

She'd told him she was on her way to get some coffee somewhere, and he'd said nothing about it, simply telling her to have a good time. She had her life, didn't she? She wanted to live it; he wasn't going to stand in her way. Pleading like a little boy to come home and talk to him. How low could he sink? He was a detective, a police officer, a man who could stare killers and rapists in the eye and not blink, not feel anything but contempt and disgust. A man who knew he could take care of himself.

The rain was driving down outside the window, and only now did he notice, his half-closed eyes flicking round the room for some meagre distraction, anything at all. Poor Daphne, she'd have to dash to that coffee shop. Maybe her hair would get wet and she'd be in a rage by the time she got back. Maybe someone would hold an umbrella for her, escort her in, buy her drink and sit by her, knees close enough to touch every once in a while, smiling, laughing, flirting…

"Ohh, crap," Fred groaned, letting his eyes flicker closed. He had it bad, didn't he? He was down that creek. The one where nobody had a paddle, and the rapids were only getting closer and closer, the tips of the rocks showing above the surface, just enough to warn of the danger beneath. Inevitable danger.

Forcing himself to stand, he dragged himself through to his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed as his mind focused on one person, one incredibly important person, trawling through banks of carefully-preserved memories as the rain hammered down outside and the hum of traffic provided the usual sterile background to his cold, lonely life.

How he wished Daphne would get home soon.

* * *

><p>As a child, Daphne had never liked the taste of coffee. To her, it had always been a foul tasting, bitter substance that she would never understand. If you had told the ten year old Daphne that one day it would be her favourite beverage, she would've laughed in your face.<p>

Oh how she wished she could laugh now.

The diner was a nice enough place, a piece of laminated paper pinned to the wall stating proudly that it had scored two out of five stars for food hygiene. Daphne honestly didn't care. As long as her coffee contained no strange fluids, she was happy enough.

"There you go, love," a gruff sounding waitress said as she placed the coffee on the table without much care. Daphne gave the best smile that she could, accepting the coffee and muttering a small 'thank you'. The waitress just grunted before moving away to another table.

Daphne sipped the coffee slowly, surprised that it tasted better than expected. The rain was still pelting down outside, the whole street looking dismal and grey. Fred was probably worrying himself silly over her, she thought. It annoyed her in some ways that he was so protective, but in other ways she found it quite endearing. He was such a good person, but yet he failed to show it most of the time. That's what bothered her the most.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked, and Daphne looked up, snapped out of her daze as she locked eyes with a young man who was standing next to her table. He was quite tanned, with deep, hazel eyes and a handsome face. His hair was an almost chocolate brown, cut very short with a star shaved into one side. Daphne let go of her coffee, smiling as best as she could.

"Oh, sorry! How can I help you?" she asked, and he smiled back at her.

"You're Daphne Blake, right?" he questioned, gesturing to her as he did.

Daphne zoned out for a second as she began to panic.

_STALKER ALERT! STALKER ALERT! MAYBE HE'S AN ESCAPED CONVICT OUT FOR REVENGE AGAINST YOU! RUN! RUN LIKE THE WIND! _

The man laughed at her shocked expression, "I'm not a criminal, so don't worry! The name's Benji, and I'm really interested in joining the police force. I've been a fan of your work for a while now," he explained, extending his hand to Daphne. She shook it gently, and he sat in the chair opposite hers.

"It's nice to meet you, Benji," she replied, sipping her coffee once again. From the way he looked, she assumed he was in his early twenties. So was she, when she thought about it. Maybe she was just thinking that because being twenty five was quite scary to her. She knew that twenty five was actually quite a young age, but it was the fact that in five years she would turn thirty which bothered her the most. Was she wasting her young adulthood by chasing a career that was probably aging her by the second?

"I heard that you're working on the Cruel Carvings case," he said, taking a sip of the latte he had brought with him from wherever he had been previously. Daphne's eyes snapped up to meet his.

"That's confidential information, I'm afraid," she explained bluntly, holding the eye contact a little longer than necessary to get her point across. He chuckled, taking another sip of latte before smirking.

"It's not so confidential if it's all over the news every night, now is it?" he replied, and she rolled her eyes.

"Still, I'm not allowed to talk about the details; you understand?" she stated, keeping her voice calm. Hell, she had practiced the whole 'that's confidential information' speech hundreds of times, but now she almost felt uneasy about the whole situation.

"Of course, I apologise," he said, sipping more of the latte, "I'm just interested, that's all. How close are you to getting this guy?" he asked, and Daphne sighed. So many damn questions.

"Again, I can't give the details but I'd say that we're pretty close to wrapping this whole thing up," she explained, feeling like she was repeating herself.

Benji smiled, glancing at his watch. Standing up, he extended his hand to her again, and she shook it without hesitation.

"I have to go, but thanks for talking with me. Put in a good word at the office about me, okay?" he instructed, and she nodded with a smile.

"Sure thing, you have a nice evening," she replied, and he smiled before turning to walk away.

"You too, Miss Blake, you too."

* * *

><p>Shower. Teeth. Get into bed. Get warm.<p>

Somehow, his usual routine just didn't appeal to Fred now, sprawled across his bed, eyes closed to fend off the overly-bright overhead light that he simply couldn't muster the energy to get up and turn off.

Shower. Teeth.

Maybe the bathroom would be better. The soft lighting Daphne had insisted on, the fluffy bath mat, her hairbrush and hairdryer on the windowsill, the red hairs caught between the bristles of the brush catching the dim light of the sodium streetlamps outside. Surrounded by his absent friend.

How long did she want to take?

He'd heard about separation anxiety, heard how it made people hypersensitive to being parted to a loved one, worried that they would get hurt somehow, would be ripped away from them in some terrible accident when the likelihood was so low it should barely register. If he was getting like that, he should just hand in his police badge right now, because that was the last thing he could do, allow himself to get emotional.

Just as he had been when his father said goodbye to him.

No. He couldn't allow his emotions to get in the way of his life. That way lay madness. He'd seen it so often, in the eyes of victims, family members, even criminals. It ruined the mind, crumbled it, made it useless and weak, and he could not be either of those things, because he was a protector. He protected his city and his people, his loved ones.

Like Daphne.

Shut it. Shower. Teeth.

The shower was only lukewarm, the boiler having not come on properly yet; they'd set it for eleven, banking on the long nights that the job brought making them late home most days of the week. Often they'd be out long into the night, would shower the next morning, with a tank full of warm water waiting for them. But the few times they actually came home early, they had to make do with the bare minimum of warm water, and right now Fred needed the burn of it on his skin, the breathlessness and red skin, needed something, whatever form it came in, to take his mind away from Daphne, take it away from what it had been thinking over for most of the evening.

His hand slammed down on the temperature gage, turning the water so cold that it robbed him of all air when it hit him.

He was shivering by the time he got out, wrapping himself in one of Daphne's towels so that he could cover himself in her scent, scrubbing hard at his teeth until his gum bled. The flat was so damn empty. So cold and sterile, like a morgue someone had added furnishings and carpet to. And he'd seen his fair share of carefully-sweetened morgues. Nothing could stop the shrieking of the relatives as the cold face and blue lips were uncovered. He'd learnt over the years to block it out as best he could, to comfort where it was necessary and stare straight at the wall all the time, because if he let himself see the tears and glistening cheeks and distraught eyes he was a child once again, clinging to his brother as his dad's body was uncovered, standing silent and shattered as his brother's screams echoed round the miserable little room.

Daphne had asked him once what his first dead body was like, shortly after she'd seen her own, tears leaking silently down her face as she stood opposite him in the corridor and stared into his stony face. All he'd said was that it had been something he would never forget.

He was waiting for the door as he climbed into bed, drew the covers up over himself. Tried to stop shivering. Tried to imagine good times.

He was still waiting an hour later. Still shivering. Still thinking darker thoughts than anyone should be thinking so late at night.

* * *

><p>Daphne had never been a reckless driver, in fact she hated being in a car when it was going over one hundred miles per hour. But that had all been thrown out of the window as she tore around another corner, driving as fast and as dangerously as she dared. She had solved it, she had done it. And she wasn't about to be caught out on a slow drive back home.<p>

Breathing a sigh of relief as her apartment building came into view, she slowed down slightly. Someone behind her beeped the horn, but at this moment she really couldn't care less. Pulling into the building's car garage, she turned into the usual parking space and turned off the engine, grabbing her handbag as well as the damned file before exiting the vehicle. Locking it quickly, she began to jog towards the stairs, tackling them as best as she could with high heels.

It seemed like an eternity before she reached the apartment door, and she fumbled with the keys because of the way her hands were shaking. She was so full of adrenaline she thought she might explode. Finally managing to unlock the door, she practically leapt in, locking the door behind her and throwing her handbag onto the couch. Walking over to the dining table, she splayed open the file, staring at what she had managed to come up with in the lonely diner in East Coolsville.

By God, she was shaking. Almost violently. Turning towards the other end of the lounge, she kicked her high heels off, briefly enjoying the feeling of carpet beneath her feet before returning to the task at hand. Running now, she bolted to Fred's door and threw it open. He woke suddenly, sitting up in the darkness and staring at her. She was just standing in the doorway, breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf. Still half asleep, he reached out to her with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other.

"D-Daphne... are you alright?" he asked, and she moved towards him.

Without saying a word, she clambered onto the bed and over to him, straddling his waist. He just stared at her, looking a cross between confused and worried sick about her. She looked into his eyes for a moment, taking in each swirl of cerulean and sapphire as they stared back at her.

Suddenly, she hugged him, pushing him down onto the mattress and wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Fred let his arms hover above her for a moment, contemplating the situation.

He hated seeing her like this; it killed him inside. All he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let her go. Slowly, he lowered his arms so that they rested on her back, then developing into a full hug. She wasn't making much noise, just breathing softly into his skin as she tried to calm herself. He loved the way her body felt against his, it seemed like they were made to fit together like a jigsaw. Gently stroking her back, he held her tightly, trying to comfort the best he could.

"Daphne?" he whispered, and he felt her sigh against him, "...Daphne, talk to me."

She pulled away from him, sitting up slightly but still straddling his waist. It was then that she smiled softly, a lone tear escaping from her eye.

"I think... I think I've got something. I need you to see it though..." she stuttered, trying to regain her breath. He nodded, trying to comfort her by gently rubbing the sides of her arms.

"Where is it?"

"In the lounge. I'm so scared, Freddie..." she breathed, and he hugged her again, kissing the top of her head and breathing in her wonderful scent. The same scent as her towel, he noted.

"Don't be scared, Daphne. I won't let anything happen to you. Show me what you've found," he reassured her, and she smiled as she blinked back more tears.

Climbing off of him, she grasped his hand and pulled him off of the bed, leading him out of the bedroom and into the hall. Having not bothered to put a shirt on, Fred felt the cold air hit his bare chest as they stepped into the light. He followed her, gripping her hand tightly as she led him over to the dining table. It was when he saw the file with a series of photographs splayed out on the table that he knew it was serious. She stopped, gesturing to the display.

"Take a look..." she whispered, letting go of his hand and stepping to the side. He moved forwards, leaning on the wooden surface as his eyes scanned the information in front of him.

"...my God, Daphne..." he breathed, all of the facts coming together in his mind. In front of him were the photographs off all the carvings found on each of the bodies. The way Daphne had laid them out revealed something so stunning; it had shaken Fred to the very core. The carvings spelt:

* * *

><p><strong>'WED-NESD-AY-12T-HJUL-Y11.-30P-MCHARLT-ONWARE-HOU-SEDO-CKS'<strong>

* * *

><p>Daphne watched him, his mind at work as he thought everything through. He turned to her, his eyes wide with excitement and shock.<p>

"That's tomorrow, Daphne! That's tomorrow!" he exclaimed, rushing forwards and pulling her into a hug, squeezing her tightly, "You're a genius!" he repeated over and over again, almost laughing as he said it. Pulling away, he ran a hand through his hair.

"So, what are we going to do?" she asked, waiting for his response. He smiled, clapping his hands together a few times.

"We're going to go there, tomorrow at eleven. With police backup, of course," he explained, still managing to smile. Daphne frowned, feeling uneasy in the pit of her stomach.

"Don't you think it's a trap?" she questioned, and his smile faded. Turning towards the direction of his room, he began to walk, stopping in the centre of the living room and looking back at her.

"Of course it is."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my goodness! It's almost over! Aha, I'm so excited! Are you? Big thanks to my buddy, Jazzola, who wrote the first two passages of Fred being alone in the apartment! This chapter would probably be still waiting in my 'to-do' folder if it hadn't been for you, so thank you :) Please review, and thanks again to everyone who has read this story from the beginning! You guys rock! :D<strong>


	19. Mirrors

She was so close. So close he could literally stretch his fingers and he'd be brushing her arm. He could feel the heat from her body, hear the whisper of her slow sleep-breathing, sense every twitch and flinch as she flitted between dreams.

_Sweet torture_, he thought, letting his eyes slide open and his gaze fall upon her unconscious face, the curves and contours bathed in moonlight from the open window. _Beautiful_.

And she was. She always had been. He couldn't remember a time when she hadn't made his stomach twist with a single smile, when her fingers in his hadn't sent electricity crackling through his body. And now here she was, sleeping right beside him, and he didn't have the faintest idea what the hell he should be doing about it.

Turning over onto his back, Fred sighed heavily, fixing his eyes on the ceiling to go through the notes of the case. They had a note and a meeting-place, and he would have to organise back-up if they were going in alone. He had a feeling Red would prefer it if it was just them, rather than the rest of the state's cops blundering in with them. He had to make sure they were safe- well, had to make sure Daphne was safe. He could hold his own, but she would be more vulnerable, probably not as strong as Red, nor a strong runner like him.

…Daphne, fast asleep next to him, face bare of make-up, looking innocent and beguiling and majestic snuggled beneath his light blue duvet, her whole body angled as though begging him to cuddle her, smoothly-curved lips just open to show a glimpse of even ivory teeth…

He'd have to do some negotiating. Maybe he'd have a radio, a wire, just so anyone outside would be able to track what was going on. He doubted the higher-ups would let him and Daphne get so close to danger without some kind of tracking. If he shot at Daphne, he'd have to be close enough to get in the way. No matter how much she'd yell at him later for it, he would never allow her to come to harm if he was close enough to stop it happening.

His Daphne, one slender arm encased in his football jersey nestled almost against his body, eyelashes flickering as her eyes moved, deep in a dream…

He was a lovesick teenager. No other way of putting it.

And he'd never get any sleep here.

Sliding his legs out of bed, Fred gently shifted his weight onto his feet, making to get up and head to the sofa. It was comfortable enough to spend the night at least, and the way he was going, he'd do something completely stupid and either wake Daphne up or spend the entire night lying awkwardly beside her like a kid. He was Fred Jones, a fully-qualified detective, and just because his chest was aching at the thought of leaving her alone in his bed when he could be holding her didn't mean that he would let his emotions make a fool of him.

Behind him, Daphne mumbled something in her sleep, reaching out towards him, delicate fingers brushing his arm and latching onto it.

_Oh wow… her hands are so warm…_

Fred stood stock still, only realising when his chest began to burn that he'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Frrred… c'mon, it's late… get back into bed."

Tugging gently on his hand, Daphne tried to pull him back to bed, and with the warmth of her smooth fingers on his, there was only ever going to be one outcome.

Fred sank back down beside her, sliding himself back under the duvet, his eyes tracking her in the dim light as she shifted further towards him, her hand sliding over his chest, one foot brushing against his beneath the covers.

"Daph…"

_Now or never._

And he slid his arm around her shoulders, a deep sigh breezing out from his chest as Daphne shuffled into his body, pressing herself to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he gazed down on her, unable to tear his gaze away, unable to move, frozen in perfection for this one wonderful second.

A tiny smile on his face, Fred let himself lie back onto the pillows, the last thing he saw being Daphne's moonlight-bathed face before he slid into sleep with her, curled round each other, comfortable and secure.

* * *

><p><em>Mirrors. Mirrors everywhere. Everywhere he looked, he could only see his reflection staring back at him, almost judging himself somehow. The expressionless face stared back at him, ice blue eyes burning into his identical ones. He had to get away; get away.<em>

_Suddenly, the image began to contort, twisting before his very eyes. The ice blue turned deeper, more cobalt in colour._

"_No..." he breathed, trying to run away but only to find himself staring at the same image. The sweatpants were replaced with black, work trousers, and a blue shirt with black tie morphed over his previously bare chest. _

_He was finding it hard to breathe, wanting to tear his gaze away but at the same time being transfixed by what was happening to the reflection. As he glanced at his face, wrinkles had appeared in his previously young skin, accompanied by scars and finally a moustache. _

_He gasped. The mirror was reflecting an image of his father._

_Run. Run fast and don't look back._

_So he did, he took off, tearing down the mirrored corridors, only to see his father staring at him wherever he turned._

"_You can't run from me, Fred. You can never escape the past..." a voice echoed, and Fred collapsed to his knees, burying his head in his hands._

"_No! I'm not like you, I'll never be like you..." he shouted, tears streaming from his eyes as he sat up. The voice laughed menacingly, causing Fred to cry out in frustration._

"_You can't escape me, Fred. I live in you. As long as you keep running, I'll always be here. Watching... waiting..." _

_Fred roared in fury, punching his father's reflection with all of his might. The mirror shattered, and like a shockwave, the entire structure exploded with amazing force. Fred collapsed, his tears flooding the floor as the shards fell onto his lifeless body, one by one..._

* * *

><p>Fred's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching in his throat as he lay motionless underneath the covers. Sitting up slowly, he stared down at his hands, his eyes wide and anxious. Daphne stirred beside him, mumbling sleepily as she realised he wasn't holding her in his arms. Fred didn't seem to notice, breathing heavily and running his hands through his hair.<p>

His father. The one man Fred never wanted to be. But what did the dream mean? He was so confused.

"Are you alright?" Daphne's gentle voice brought him back down to Earth, and he sighed when he felt her hands on his bare back, softly caressing the toned muscles and shoulder blades. She was sitting beside him, her head leant on his shoulder as they both stared into the darkness of the room. Fred closed his eyes, suddenly feeling the need to cry.

_No, crying means showing emotion. You don't do that, remember?_

"I..." he paused, thinking of the correct response to her question. She looked up at him with concern, her hands now at the nape of his neck and gently massaging the short strands of blonde hair that grew there.

Goodness, she was so caring towards him. He almost felt obliged to offer her care in return. Hell, he would still look after her even if she was a total bitch towards him. Because he needed her. It was quite pathetic when he thought about it.

"Bad dream?" she asked, and he found himself nodding. She was a detective, after all.

"Yeah... I guess..." he replied, and she smiled.

"Forget about it for now, you need some sleep," she whispered, removing her hand from his neck and instead moving it down to hold his own. He squeezed her hand lightly, wondering if it would be possible to stay like this forever.

"I wish I could..." he sighed, and she leant back, her head resting on the pillow with their hands still linked. He turned to look at her, and she was smiling back at him. How he loved that smile.

"C'mon," she said, patting the space beside her with her free hand. Slowly, he laid back down again, pulling the covers back over their bodies as they huddled together.

"...night, Daph," he whispered, and she grinned.

"Night, Freddie," she replied, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again, "Tomorrow's going to be exciting, right?"

Fred chuckled, leaning his forehead on hers.

"Yeah, it will be. We'll catch Red, and that'll be the end of it," he smiled, and she nodded.

"Good."

Fred leant in to kiss her cheek, but as he did Daphne shifted slightly against the pillow. Fred's lips lightly grazed her own, and both of their eyes snapped open in shock and surprise. Pulling away, he gazed into her eyes as she gazed back. The look in her eyes, he couldn't describe it. Sad? Confused? Lust? All he knew was at that moment, he didn't want to anything else apart from kiss her.

So he did.

Cupping her head with his hands, he pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. She kissed back, her eyes closed as she savoured the experience. Fred smiled, and almost as if she had felt it, she smiled also.

Pulling away, he continued to smile and pulled her into his body, holding her in his arms like before. She sighed contently, feeling as secure as she had in a long time.

"Good night, Daphne," he whispered, and her smile widened.

"Good night, Fred."

* * *

><p><strong>Aw :3 Aren't they sweet? :D And what a dream, huh? Freaky... Big thanks to Jazzola (again!) for helping me with this chapter, and this story in general! She is the very talented writer who wrote the first part of this chapter up until the dream sequence. You rock, buddy! Berty congratulates you on being awesome ;D Please review, and tell me what your favourite moment of Blake and Jones has been so far! Adios, amigos!<strong>


	20. Unmasked

**This first part is written by Jazzola :) Thanks again, buddy! :D The first 'Ruler' after the one below this A/N is where her part ends, and mine begins... ;D**

* * *

><p>"Pathetic fallacy."<p>

"What?"

"Pathetic fallacy. It's when the weather reflects the mood of a piece of writing… it's kind of happening to us now, isn't it? I mean, raining so hard…"

"Do you remember _everything_they taught you in school?"

Daphne giggled nervously, shuffling around quietly in her seat and resting her head back onto the seat as Fred checked and re-checked his gun for the fifth time, sliding it down into the footwell and clasping his hands in his lap. They'd been here for half an hour now, neither wanting to run afoul of bad traffic and miss the meeting, thus ending up arriving a full hour early; listening to the radio had helped until the presenter had started talking about the murders they were investigating, and since then Daphne had been unable to settle to anything, attempting conversation only for it to grind to a standstill, fiddling moodily with her nails, flicking through apps on her iPod only to stuff it back into her bag. Fred, in contrast, was still as a rock, head tipped back to expose the strangely vulnerable curve of his throat, the careful eyes darting round through the pouring rain the only indication of the tension in the car.

Glancing across, Daphne watched him silently, swallowing hard as she prepared to speak, voice the thoughts that had been gnawing at her ever since the warehouse had appeared in front of them out of the driving rain.

"Do you… think he'll try to go for you or me, if he goes for either of us?"

"You, probably."

Fred's voice was stark, almost emotionless, deliberately not letting his feelings get out of control even as his eyes bored into hers and his hands tightened on each other. Daphne nodded jerkily, pressing her lips into a thin line, shifting round to face him as he tilted his head towards her, his face softening as he caught the fear in hers.

"I've got a gun, we'll have back-up. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

"If you've got a gun, he'll think you're more of a threat."

"So? I've still got a gun, whatever the scenario is. And I'd…"

His voice tailed away, the tip of his tongue darting out to wetten his lips before he continued, his voice a little hoarser than previously.

"If he shot at you, I'd step in front of you, give me a better aim at him."

"You can't be serious… you'd take a bullet for me?"

Daphne's voice was small, almost a whisper beneath the pounding of the rain on the car roof; coming from a lesser woman, it might have almost sounded frightened, but Daphne Blake was not a lesser woman, and as such Fred took it for what it was, wary and gentle. Almost… fond.

"You'd drive the nurses mad within twelve hours if you were shot, Daph. All I'm doing is saving the local Emergency Room some serious work."

"Don't joke about it," Daphne hissed, her hand shooting out to latch onto his arm. Fred fell silent, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, waiting for her to speak; as her mouth opened, he wordlessly brought his hand up to rest over hers, squeezing gently.

"I won't let you take a bullet for me, Fred, because if that bullet is intended for me, then I have to take it. You're… you're amazing, to consider doing such a thing, but I could never be responsible for you getting injured, especially not k-killed."

Fred's thumb stroked hers.

"I think you're wonderful for saying that. But… I couldn't let it happen."

Struggling to keep her tears out of her voice, Daphne brought her gaze up to his, her hand tightening on his bicep; Fred's eyes were intense, a stormy deep blue, and his fingers were warm and soothing on hers as he drew a deep breath, simply watching her, leaning unconsciously closer until his mouth was barely an inch from hers.

"What if I didn't give you a choice?"

_Bang._

"Ahh!" Daphne squealed, swerving round, grabbing at Fred with both hands as a face appeared out of her window, blurred by the driving rain. Fred chuckled shakily, easing her hands off.

"Daph, relax. Back up have arrived."

_And the ordeal begins,_ he thought with a long, deep sigh, bending down to retrieve his gun as Daphne silently opened her door and clambered out into the downpour, straight underneath someone's umbrella.

* * *

><p>Fred followed, refusing the cover of an umbrella as he made his way towards the small group of officers huddled around two squad cars. He frowned, surveying the scene with his finely trained eyes, "Why are there only five of you? I specifically requested ten officers or more," Fred snapped, and immediately a young officer shrugged his shoulders, looking slightly frightened due to Fred's demeanour. Daphne just watched from Fred's side, refusing to react to her partner's sudden aggression. She had much more important things on her mind.<p>

"Sir, Officer Bridgewhite had to scramble as many officers as he could to a gang fight downtown. We were the only ones who could make it," he explained, clasping his hands together in front of him.

Fred nodded, a deep sigh escaping his throat as the rain continued to fall.

"Right, right, then we'll survive. Here's the plan..." that phrase seemed so familiar in his mind, but he shook it off, focusing on the task at hand.

_You can't run from the past..._

Fred blinked, pausing for a moment. Had he really just heard a voice inside his head? Dear God, he was going crazy, "...me and Detective Blake will scout out the warehouse. You are to remain here until further notice. This guy is dangerous and elusive, so it's best if we go in alone for now; if we all rush in it might scare him away, got it?" he explained hurriedly, and the officers nodded, "Good. I'll have a radio with me in case things get nasty, but you are only to assist if I specifically tell you to, understand?"

The officers nodded again, and Fred was satisfied. Gently patting Daphne on the back, he turned and began to walk towards the ominous building in front of them. Daphne followed, trying to block out the snickers of the officers behind them as they walked away, and the whispers of "That guy's crazy!". She sighed, wiping away a lone tear that had escaped from her eyes. Somehow it hurt her to hear people making fun of him. And she wasn't even sure why.

* * *

><p>They stood in front of the tall, metal doors, shiny from the rain as it pelted down. Daphne shivered, folding her arms across her chest to try and maintain some heat. She was already wet through. Fred was just staring at the doors, his brows knotted as he thought about what they were about to do.<p>

Turning his head to look at her, he gestured for her to come closer. She obliged, stepping forwards until she was right beside him. God, she was so nervous.

"The warehouse used to be a commercial one, so there's two entrances," he began, his face emotionless as he spoke, "It'll be quicker if one of us uses each entrance, so that we can search the place faster. You can take the rear entrance, and I'll take this one. We'll meet in the middle, alright?" he explained, looking down at her as their eyes locked. She nodded, not feeling very confident about the situation.

"What if the guy's there?" she asked, trying to sound professional but instead sounding like a scared schoolgirl. He thought for a moment, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently, almost to comfort her. She needed it.

"I have a radio. If you get into any bother, call me and I'll get back up. Do you have anything to defend yourself with?" he replied, and she shrugged.

"I have pepper spray," she said, reaching into her blazer pocket and pulling out a medium sized can of the potent spray. Fred nodded.

"Here, take this tazer," he replied, unclipping the device from his belt and handing it to her, "It's not much, but it's better than pepper spray," he added. Daphne sighed deeply, placing the tazer in her pants pocket. He turned back to the building, almost looking torn as the rain continued to pour.

"Right, let's do this." Immediately he grasped the door and pushed it open. Daphne peered in, the little confidence that she had been holding onto before vanishing in an instant. It was dark in there, almost pitch black if it weren't for the various large gaps in the roof, allowing some moonlight to shine in. Fred seemed taken aback also, swallowing slowly as his eyes tried to adjust to the blackness.

They stood in silence for a few seconds, before Daphne took a few steps towards the right corner of the building.

"I guess I'll see you in a little while," she said, trying to stop herself from thinking that it could be the last thing she would ever say to him. He stared into her eyes for a moment, almost as if he were savouring them before nodding. With that, she turned and began to walk towards the opposite entrance, not sure whether the water on her cheeks was the rain or her own tears...

* * *

><p>Fred waited for a good while as he stood at the door of the warehouse. It would take her at least five minutes to even reach the entrance, let alone actually go in. He checked his gun, making sure the safety was off. The stories of guns discharging by accident and shooting people in the leg were enough to make him check, time and time again, that the gun was safe.<p>

Checking his watch, he frowned. It was three minutes to eleven. Sighing, he turned and stepped into the darkness. The first thing he noticed was how the large space was divided. There was a large wall separating the two areas, with a small archway at the bottom right corner to allow access. There was also a metal staircase leading to the second floor of the opposite area, but Fred wasn't worried about that right now. Looking around, he was surprised that the warehouse was practically empty. His senses were primed, ready to react to any possible danger that may present itself to him.

"So you came? I must say, Detective, I _am_ surprised." Fred spun around to see Red calmly walking through the archway he had seen before. Fred froze, feeling his adrenaline reach dangerous new heights.

"Where's Daphne? What have you done with her?!" he shouted, stepping forwards to gain some ground between them. He was still quite far away.

"Daphne? She's right here, aren't you deary?" he smirked, revealing that he had been clutching onto Daphne the entire time, pulling her from the darkness and shoving her in front of him.

At that moment, Fred's entire world collapsed.

She looked so frightened. So _terribly _frightened. God, he had been so stupid! To let her go alone was the worst thing he could've done. He wondered why she wasn't struggling against him, why she wasn't putting up a fight of some kind, but then he saw the knife. The glimmering knife that was pressed against her side, preventing any movement whatsoever.

In all of his life, he had never felt so powerless.

"Let go of her, you bastard!" he shouted, still frozen to the spot. His mind was screaming at him to call for backup, to reach for his gun, to do _something_. But he just... couldn't.

"I'm only going to say this once, Freddie-Boy! If you so happen to even take a _step_ towards me or Daphne I will end her life; understood?" Red called, sounding almost psychotic. Daphne just stared at Fred, her eyes filling with tears. Fred growled, fighting every urge to charge towards him. Because as much as he would like to think Red was bluffing, some part of him believed what he was saying.

"Let her go, Red. This is between me and you," Fred replied, trying to keep his voice calm but failing badly. Red chuckled, his emerald green eyes flashing in the darkness.

"For once, you're actually right about something, Fred. This is about you, it's always been about you," he said, his voice rough as he spoke. Fred raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about, Red?" he questioned, trying to pretend that he was just dealing with another hostage situation, not the love of his life being held captive in a killer's arms.

Red let out another maniacal laugh, causing Daphne to flinch slightly as she stood with the blade pressed against her side.

"We go _way_ back, Detective... before all of this even began. But now it's my time; I have you right where I want you and there's nothing you can do about it. Do you really think this was about the women I've killed? About Daphne? It's not, it's all about you, Frederick Herman Jones... It's _always_ been about you..."

Suddenly, there was a zapping noise, like electricity being discharged. Red's eyes widened as he shook violently, slamming into the floor as the charge coursed through his body. It all happened so fast, that it took Fred a moment to take it all in. Daphne placed the tazer back in her pocket, turning to Fred in a blind panic.

"Fred!" she called, sounding the most fearful she had ever been. Fred dashed, just managing to maintain his grip on the slippery floor of the warehouse as he ran towards her.

Suddenly, everything seemed to play in slow motion. Red jumped back to his feet, looking furiously at Daphne as he grabbed the knife he had been holding before. In one swift movement, he plunged the blade into her side, drawing blood as a smile formed on his features.

"You motherfucker!" Fred almost screamed, reaching them before the blade was fully inside her and punching Red in the jaw with awesome force. Red stumbled back, falling to the ground as the knife skidded across the slippery floor. Daphne clutched the open wound, a shocked expression on her features before falling to the floor.

Fred managed to catch her, taking off his trench coat and pressing it to the wound. Tears were already streaming down his cheeks, even if he wasn't fully aware of it. Daphne reached towards him, a distant look in her eyes.

"Fred..." she breathed, looking as pale as he had ever seen her, "I... I'm sorry," she said, and he shook his head.

"Don't be. You're going to be okay, Daphne, just keep breathing," he whispered, supporting her head with his free hand and lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb. She winced, trying to move but finding that the gaping wound in her side made it excruciatingly painful.

"Shit, Fred, it hurts. Shit!" she gasped, clenching her teeth as she lay on the cold, unforgiving floor. Fred breathed quickly, unsure as to what he should do. Still pressing his coat against her side, he saw that some of her blood had stained his hands.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that he would ever have her blood on his hands.

"Just keep breathing, Daphne. I need you to stay with me," he told her, still supporting her head with one hand. She looked so lifeless. If she died, he'd never forgive himself. Ever.

Behind him, Red scrambled to his feet, running towards the staircase and beginning to climb.

"I guess my work here is done, see you next time, Fred!" he called, and Fred turned to face him. Daphne grasped his tie, causing his attention to return to her.

"Go get him... I'll be fine here," she said, finding the courage to utter those words from somewhere deep inside her. He thought for a moment. Unclipping the radio from his belt, he gently handed it to her.

"If you can, call for backup. But if that's too much, just lay here and stay calm, alright? Keep applying pressure to the wound," he explained, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead for a brief second before jumping up and giving chase to Red, who had already disappeared from view. Daphne just stayed still, blinking away tears that stung her eyes. She really didn't want to die there...

* * *

><p>As soon as Fred reached the top of the stairs, the first thing he noticed was the layout. He was standing on some sort of catwalk overlooking the other side of the factory, where several large containers were situated, some filled with rainwater. There were railings, but there was a long extended section of walkway that hovered above one of the containers which did not have any protection. And by God did it look slippery.<p>

Before he even had a chance to move, Red leapt onto his back, wrapping his arm around Fred's neck as if he were trying to apply a sleeper hold. Fred groaned, using most of his strength to prevent his legs from buckling underneath him. Reaching up, he grabbed Red by the collar of his jacket and threw him over his head, slamming him onto the metal catwalk in front of him.

Red growled, clutching his head as Fred grasped the front of his shirt, yanking him off of the floor and slamming his body into the wall beside them.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Fred growled, dodging Red's attempts to punch as they struggled against each other.

"Go on then, you fucking coward. Fucking do it," Red replied, and Fred shoved him away, his shoes slipping on the wet floor as he moved towards him.

Red spun around, whacking Fred right in the nose, sending him off balance. The railings supported him as he grasped onto them, briefly checking his nose for blood. He was bleeding, alright. Or perhaps it was just the same stains of Daphne's blood on his fingers.

Red clamped his hands around Fred's cranium, applying almost superhuman pressure as he pushed the detective into the thin metal. Fred cried out, trying to pull Red's hands away only to exhaust himself. Red snickered, pushing his opponent's head down until his Adam's Apple was pressed against the cold, rusting railing. Fred spluttered, trying to breathe but finding it increasingly difficult as his throat was pressed harder against the metal.

"What's the matter, Fred?! Cat got your tongue?!" Red asked, laughing hysterically at the joke. Fred coughed violently, almost throwing up. He had to do something before it was too late.

Placing both of his hands on the rail below him, he steadied himself before using his free leg to kick Red straight in his groin. Red gasped, releasing his death grip and stumbling backwards until his back hit the wall.

Fred rushed after him, ignoring his stinging throat as he laid another right hand on the criminal. Red looked dazed, part of his jacket and mask ripped as he received more punishment from the detective. Fred grasped the top of the red mask, gripping it tightly.

"It's time to find out who you really are!" he breathed, pulling the mask off in one clean motion. What he saw underneath shocked him to his very core. He stood silently as he stared at the one person he had never suspected, someone who he had never imagined to be a killer.

The now unmasked Red took the opportunity and kneed Fred in the stomach, scrambling away and out onto the un-railed platform Fred had seen earlier. Fred leant against the wall, just staring at the man at the end of the platform as the rain continued to pelt down, his own cerulean eyes burning against the emerald ones he now recognised. His brain could not even process what he was seeing. 'Red' just smiled at him, a crazy look painted on his features as he breathed heavily, ignoring the various cuts and bruises given to him at the hands of Fred.

Fred stood up slowly, still finding it hard to comprehend. He'd been betrayed before, and it was never a nice feeling. He managed to muster up the breath to call his friend's name as the wind ripped through them.

"...Jimmy?"


	21. What Are You Really Afraid Of?

"Jimmy?" Fred breathed, staring into his colleague's eyes as they stood in the dark warehouse. Jimmy chuckled, nodding slowly.

"Indeed. What were you expecting?" he asked, the same evil smirk on his face as he watched the detective stumble over his words.

"Jimmy... why...?" Fred could barely organise his thoughts, let alone construct sentences.

"Why? You want to know why? I thought that detectives were meant to ask better questions than 'why?'" Red questioned, running a hand through his short, auburn hair. Fred had taken a few more steps forwards, still aware that somewhere on the warehouse floor Daphne was possibly bleeding to death.

"Why?! Why did you do it, Jimmy?! WHY?!" Fred screamed, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach.

"I did it because I could. I did it because I wanted to get at you. I know that that stupid bitch lying in a pool of her own blood down there is the most important thing to you in your sorry little life!" he snapped, and Fred almost charged at him right there and then. But his fear stopped him. If he made one wrong move out there, he could fall to his death, leaving Daphne at the mercy of this psychopath he used to call a friend. And he didn't want Jimmy dead either, he wanted him alive.

"Then why all those other girls? Twelve people, Jimmy! Twelve _fucking_ people!" Fred replied, wanting to know the answers to his questions. Jimmy laughed, stepping back slightly. How he hadn't slipped by now was a mystery to Fred.

"Well, I had to make it entertaining, didn't I?" he smiled, giggling like it was some sort of joke, "Kill one person, nobody takes you seriously any more. Kill _twelve_ _innocent young women_, and you're a celebrity! I wanted revenge, sure, but I thought I'd have some fun too. You're so easy to manipulate, Freddie Jones, it's amazing!" he exclaimed, and Fred frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, all I have to do to get you riled up is talk about poor little Daphne, or perhaps your dear old Daddy..." Fred's hand flew to his pistol, gripping the handle as he stared at the man.

"You leave my father out of this, Jimmy!"

Jimmy chuckled, swaying as he watched Fred with glee.

"Like father like son, I suppose. Always reaching for a gun," Jimmy smiled, delighted as Fred's frown worsened.

"I'm warning you. I'm not going to shoot you, so just surrender!" Fred growled, letting go of the pistol and returning to his previous stance.

At this statement Jimmy laughed heartily, finding the whole thing incredibly amusing.

"Surrender? I'm unarmed, and there's nothing to stop you from coming over here and arresting me," he pointed out, standing with his arms wide open, as if he were offering a hug.

"You can come to me, Jimmy." Fred's words were so direct, so crystal clear as he spoke, gesturing to the space directly in front of him. Jimmy didn't seem to react to his tone, still keeping up the devilish smile he had worn for the last ten minutes.

"But I'm right here! Surely you could just walk out here, handcuff me and lead me away?" he exclaimed, making Fred's frown worsen as he stood there, ever aware of the ticking time bomb that was Daphne Blake, "...or are you afraid? Are you afraid that you might slip and fall to your death? Are you afraid to feel your bones snap and your insides burst as you hit the concrete below? Tell me, Fred... what are you really afraid of?"

This question seemed so stir something deep inside of Fred, and he clenched his teeth.

"I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're getting at," he replied bluntly, sounding almost animalistic as he spoke. God, he was so angry.

Jimmy's sinister smile widened, almost as if he had been expecting Fred to say that.

"Are you afraid that you'll _have _to shoot me? Are you afraid that you won't bring me back alive, robbing the families of those poor, young women of proper justice? Or are you afraid that you won't be able to avoid the reputation of your dear old Daddy?" as he said this, Fred felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat. He almost choked at Jimmy's words.

Jimmy winked, knowing that he had struck a nerve, "Your father was never one for negotiations, was he? The only time he would capture a suspect _alive_ was if he had run out of bullets, wasn't it? I suppose that if you kill that many people, and watch the light fade from their eyes as the breath leaves their bodies... well, I suppose it turns you into a monster; eventually," he paused, noting how Fred's stance had tensed considerably, "I mean, you have to be a monster to do such a thing to your _own family..._" he trailed off, noticing that Fred was now pointing his pistol directly at him, the detective's breathing rapid and heavy.

They stood in silence for a few seconds, but it felt like decades. Fred was distraught, his conscience screaming at him to not pull the trigger. But it was _so _tempting.

"I..." Fred began, finding it difficult to speak, "I r-really... _really_ don't want to s-shoot you, Jimmy," he stuttered, keeping a firm grip on the gun as he spoke. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes again, Jimmy's words stirring painful memories from deep inside him, ones he had trained himself to forget.

"But you will," Jimmy replied confidently, "You most definitely _will_ shoot me, Fred Jones. Probably in the next few minutes, in fact."

Fred shook his head slightly, almost as if he were trying to convince himself it wasn't true.

"You fucking deserve it. If there's anyone who I'd rather shoot, it'd be you," he growled, gesturing with the pistol as he spoke, "I mean... after all of the _shit_ you've put me through... all of the _shit_ you've put Daphne through! _Holy shit_!" he screamed in a fit of rage, nearly pulling the trigger right there and then. He was an emotional wreck, "...you took so many lives... it only seems fair..." he breathed, calming himself as he stood completely still, rigid like a rock.

Jimmy was enjoying the spectacle, the same malicious grin on his face from before. He clapped his hands together, applauding the detective's words.

"I agree with you completely. I deserve it. So do it. Shoot me," he instructed, clasping his arms in front of him and keeping them there. Fred frowned, unable to believe the calmness of his former friend.

"I'm not... I'm not going to shoot you, Jimmy. Come with me... please," it was the first time Fred had sounded desperate for a long time, but he was, "Let me take you back to the station... it doesn't have to end this way..."

"You know that only one of us is going to leave this warehouse tonight, Fred! And it's not going to be me!" Jimmy screamed, looking furious as he stared at the detective with great intensity. Another few seconds passed, and Jimmy chuckled breathlessly, "You really are pathetic, aren't you? You're so afraid, and you don't even realise it. Your father was afraid, wasn't he? So he shot some people... why don't you do the same?"

Fred raised the pistol again, flicking the safety switch off.

"Please, Jimmy..." he whispered, closing his eyes tight and shutting the world out for a second. The memories were so strong now, threatening to overcome him. He could still hear himself as a child, begging with his father. Begging so desperately. He had never felt so torn.

"You try and act all tough, but you're still just a little boy inside... aren't you? You lock away the past thinking that you don't have to deal with it, but it's tormenting you everywhere you go! You can't expect to be able to face the present if you haven't faced the past!" Jimmy said, his emerald eyes dancing as the rain continued to pour, "Shoot me, Fred."

Fred stood, pistol aimed at the centre of Jimmy's bloodied jacket. He couldn't stall any more, there weren't any sirens to be heard and Daphne's life was hanging in the balance.

"Shoot me! Shoot me! Shoot me, Fred! Shoot me!" Jimmy screamed, his voice echoing off of the walls of the warehouse. Fred sighed deeply, closing eyes and taking in the sounds and sensations around him. It was over.

_BANG!_


	22. Shock

_**Sometimes it's hard keeping my composure, Fred. Really hard. **_

_My legs. I can't feel my legs._

_**...Son, promise me that...**_

_Daphne; I need to get to Daphne..._

_**...that if anything happens...**_

_No... D-Daphne, get to Daphne..._

_**...it's not your fault. **_

_Knees buckling, arms flailing. The impact of the slippery, cold floor. I can't breathe.__** I CAN'T BREATHE.**_

_Chest t-tightening. I'm going into shock. _

_I can't go into shock. Not now. Oh God..._

_**Don't blame yourself because it will only make it harder...**_

_Don't think about it. Just go. _

_Sweaty hands fumble against the floor. Can't get a grip. Can't get a __**fucking**__ grip._

_Everything is so slow. Seconds feel like hours. I'm so cold. I want to sleep._

_Daphne... _

_Shit._

_**It's not your fault.**_

_It is._

_It's all my fucking fault._

_Damp clothes stick to my skin as I crawl across the floor, grasping for the railing. It hurts to grip onto the bars, but I must. Everything hurts._

_Using the thin, metal bars for leverage, I pull myself up, collapsing once more but managing to rest my body on the railing itself._

_Short, rapid breaths. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

_Daphne's going to die. And it will be __**your fault**_**.**

_Gotta run. Go, go, go!_

_**...and if you ever feel angry, Fred, just remember that I would never do anything to hurt you. Ever.**_

_Fucking liar. _

_I feel so surreal. Barely aware of my actions as I dash wildly, arms out in front of me as I keep falling. Falling and getting back up again. Story of my life._

_Daphne. Got to get to Daphne._

_Didn't even see the stairs. It didn't matter, I still go crashing down them. Crash after crash after crash._

_I can't feel a thing. I'm numb._

_**Bang after bang after bang...**_

_Don't think about it. __**Don't think about it.**_

_Broken bones. Probably, anyway. I can't tell. _

_Pick yourself up. _

_**People can bleed to death in twenty minutes.**_

_How long has it been? Feels like hours._

_She's dead. And now I have nothing to live for._

_DON'T. THINK. LIKE. THAT._

_Eyes blur. I can't see. Can't focus. _

_I can see her. There's people crowded around. I have to help her._

_Running. Running as fast as I can. _

_I trip. I fall. I get back up again. _

_**Survival rates are very low.**_

_I'm here. I can't see her. People are the way._

_Shove, scream. They won't move. _

"_MOVE!"_

_My voice is barely above a whisper, and it wavers as I scream. I'm shaking like a leaf._

_They're mumbling things. _

_**She was a good person.**_

_**So young...**_

_**If only someone had done something...**_

_What? No..._

"_MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!"_

_A face in the crowd. My mother. _

_My... my mother._

_I almost collapse there and then. So much adrenaline. It's overwhelming._

_She turns to me, and her voice echoes in my head, but she doesn't say a word._

_Why would she? She's... she's dead._

_Holy shit._

_**You could've saved her. But you didn't. Just like you didn't save me.**_

"_I'm trying to save her! I'm trying but you won't fucking move!"_

_**Why didn't you save me, Fred? Didn't you love me? You loved Daphne...**_

_This is too much. I... I can't see. I can't breathe. _

_I crumble. I hear the smack as I hit the floor, the crowd of people vanishing before me. My mother, gone._

_There's blood on my hands. Daphne's blood. My blood. _

_Blood. _

_I can see her. Her delicate figure sprawled on the concrete, my coat wrapped around her waist, stained crimson from the wound in her side. _

_**You could've saved her.**_

_She's... she's looking at me. Her eyes, glistened with tears are staring directly into my own. _

_She's alive. I can still save her._

_I can still... I..._

_No... _

_Darkness washes over. I've failed._

_It's all my fault. **It's all my fault.**_

_Shit._


	23. Heavenly

"_Freddie... Fred, sweetie, wake up!" _

_Her voice in my ear... her hand on my chest. _

_I open my eyes. There she is, leaning over me with the most beautiful smile on her equally beautiful face. Angelic. _

_Leaning down, she kisses my cheek chastely, her lips lingering for a moment before she pulls away._

"_Good morning."_

_Her words are spoken softly, her hand still rubbing my chest as she leans over my lying figure. I'm speechless. Was it all a dream?_

"_The kids are at my mother's..." Kids. We have kids. This isn't right. Or maybe it should be, "... so we have the whole day to ourselves. I was thinking we should take a picnic to the beach!" _

_She seems so excited. So happy. All because of me. The same way I feel about her. _

"_What do you think?"_

_**I think I'm in heaven.**_

_The words sound in my mind, but I don't say them. I can say __**anything**__._

_She awaits my response, her face becoming more concerned by the second. I can't talk; can't speak._

"_Freddie? What do you think?"_

_My throat strains as I desperately try to talk, try to tell her I love her. _

_**Try to tell her every damn thing I should've told her years ago.**_

_This is heaven. This is everything I ever wanted. But I can't have it._

_Not now._

"_Fred? Fred? __**FRED**__?!"_

_She's shaking me now, violently. Only now do I see the ring on her finger. My mother's engagement ring._

_**I knew this was too perfect.**_

_She fades, my vision cloudy but her words crystal clear. What have I done?_

_**What have I done?**_

"_Fred... Fred... Fred... __**FRED**__..."_

_Dead... Dead...Dead...__**DEAD**__._


End file.
